The Unforgiving Minute
by Voice of the Nephilim
Summary: Broken and defeated, the War long since lost, Harry enacts his final desperate gambit: Travel back in time to the day of the Third Task, destroy all of Voldemort's horcruxes and prevent the Dark Lord's resurrection…all within the space of twelve hours.
1. Prologue: Winding the Watch

The Unforgiving Minute

Prologue: Winding the Watch

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_Pushing himself to his feet again, he staggered blindly toward Snape, the man he now hated as much as he hated Voldemort himself-_

"_Sectum -!"_

_Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet again; but Harry was mere feet away now and he could see Snape's face clearly at last: He was no longer sneering or jeering; the blazing flames showed a face full of rage. Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi-_

"_No, Potter!" screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down to him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been when he had cursed Dumbledore._

"_You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them – I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don't think so…no!"_

_Harry dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight._

"_Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward -"_

"_DON'T -" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them – "CALL ME A COWARD!"_

_And he slashed at the air; Harry felt a white-hot, whip-like something hit him across the face and was slammed backward into the ground._

**Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, pages 603 - 604**

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Spots of light bursting in front of his eyes, scrabbling on the hard ground, Harry's hand closed over the smooth, familiar handle of his wand. Struggling, fighting to sit up, he heard a rush of wings above him and something enormous obscured the stars. Buckbeak had flown at Snape, who staggered backwards as razor-sharp claws slashed at him.

As Harry raised himself to a sitting position, his head still spinning, but his thoughts clear, he raised his wand. Red clouded his vision as one final time he locked eyes with the man responsible for not only Dumbledore's death, but his parents' murder.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Harry screamed, pouring all his hatred into the incantation. A soul-deep sickness penetrated his being as the bright green curse leapt from his wand.

"NO!" Snape screamed, terror in his eyes. Struggling against the angry hippogriff, he started to bring his wand up, but Buckbeak's head darted forward. The sharp beak clamped down on Snape's arm, trapping the wand against the creature's body. Unable to move, his eyes desperate, Snape thrust his wand deeper into Buckbeak's body and screamed. The hippogriff's upper body promptly exploded in a rain of blood, but his beak held firm on Snape's arm, holding him in place.

The malevolent green light struck Snape in the face, permanently etching a look of panic and terror upon his sallow features. As if in slow motion, Snape collapsed to the ground, his greasy, blood-soaked hair trailing slightly behind him.

Harry struggled to his feet, feeling completely numb. Slowly, as if emerging from a train-wreck, he made his way over to the still form of the former Potions Master. He lay face-up, his dark robes absorbing the gallons of blood spilt by the completely mangled hippogriff. In death, Snape looked anguished, as if he couldn't believe it had ended so quickly.

Harry felt like he should say something to mark the occasion, but his mind was blank. Dumbledore was dead, Snape was dead, and he, the one prophesized to defeat the Dark Lord, had just used the most heinous of all of the Unforgivables – the killing curse.

Still numb, Harry began walking back towards the inferno that had once been Hagrid's cabin. He supposed he should be feeling guilt about killing a man, but he felt nothing.

From Hagrid's cabin, an enormous figure emerged from the flames, a large dog slung about his shoulders. Harry felt a slight relief at seeing the gamekeeper in one piece, but the emotion was fleeting, quickly swallowed back up by the emptiness.

"Yeh all righ', Harry? Yeh all right? Speak to me, Harry…"

Hagrid's huge, hairy face swimming above him, blocking out the stars, Harry pondered the question for a moment.

"I'm all right," Harry said quietly, not quite knowing if his answer was true. "Are you?"

"Course I am…take more'n that ter finish me."

Harry allowed himself to be lifted up, and assisted Hagrid in putting out the fire that blazed through his cabin, his mind a blank, save for one burning question.

Would anything ever be the same again?

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	2. I: The First Hour

The Unforgiving Minute

I: The First Hour

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**June 24, 2008**

With a hand that bore the scars of his twenty-seven tumultuous years on this planet, Harry Potter wiped away the blood which had splattered onto the brass pocket-watch with a heavily calloused thumb. It streaked upon the glass, but revealed a few of the Roman numerals placed around the circumference of the watch's face.

Perhaps a cleansing charm would have been more efficient, but this was a moment that Harry knew he needed to remember, one that could not simply be wiped away with a casual wave of a wand.

If he was going to have any hope of succeeding, he would need to remember what he was fighting for.

And why.

Rising from his crouched position, Harry placed the watch into his faded and patched robes, before running a single hand through his ragged, blood-matted hair. It took effort to turn away from the horror that lay in the arched entryway, but the years had hardened him considerably. Long freed from the confines of glasses, Harry turned his pained, green-eyed gaze in the opposite direction, towards the only remaining path he had left.

Moving forward, he grasped the dull grey ladder, set into the dark stone. He descended quickly down the rungs, dropping the last few feet onto the stone walkway. He crouched slightly to absorb the impact, before turning to survey one of the deepest secrets the Department of Mysteries hid.

The cavern had been roughly carved into the black stone in a vaguely circular shape, a narrow walkway hugging its circumference. Beyond the walkway, dropping down about twenty feet, was what appeared to be a bewildering network of gleaming brass cogs, gears, axles and crystalline shapes submerged in an unidentifiable clear liquid.

As he walked, it occurred to him that if during his third year, had they taken the clock face off of Hermione's time-turner, it would have looked reasonably similar to the gleaming labyrinth that lay beneath him.

Reaching another ladder, he swung down it, landing softly on the stone floor below. In front of him, the gleaming clockwork stretched high above, filling his entire visage. Scanning the solid wall of gears and cogs, he found a space nestled between the machinery, just large enough to admit a person.

Though a small sliver of doubt still tugged at his conscience, he crushed it mercilessly and marched towards the opening. He had sacrificed too much to be dragged down by indecision. Too much of his life had already been wasted pondering the consequences of his actions.

Ducking low, his black, sweat-matted hair brushed against a low-lying cog. Weaving between the various protrusions, he threaded his way through, until the passage opened up into a small chamber.

The heart of the Unspeakables' final project.

The small chamber was perhaps twelve feet wide, surrounded by clockwork on all sides. In the center, upon a slightly elevated steel dais, was a single steel column. A long, slender handle jutted from the column, parallel to the floor. Along the outside edge of the chamber, etched into the steel floor, were large Roman numerals, from one to twelve, each digit filled with a mild, gold luminescence.

His heart heavy, Harry withdrew the pocket-watch. Beneath the blood-grimed glass, he beheld the roman numerals that circled the face, noting that it read five minutes to eleven.

Turning the pocket watch over, Harry turned the knob slightly in the clockwise direction until both hands were positioned just before the twelve.

It was time.

Placing his hands upon the handle, Harry began to push against it in the counter clockwise direction. It moved begrudgingly, the grinding of gears long dormant squealing in his ears. As he pushed, the donut-shaped section between the dais and the roman numerals began to move in rhythm with his efforts. A quarter of the way through the first revolution, a brightly colored arrow began to glow from the slowly turning section of ground, lined up directly in front of the handle. It moved slowly past the VIII, a mere foot away from the array of Roman numerals.

The first revolution complete, the various crystals around the cavern awoke, glowing with a dull, golden light. Reflecting off the liquid that surrounded the crystals, it gave the impression of pools of fire nestled within the machinery.

Though momentum should have been on his side, his progress had gotten no easier. Taking a deep breath, he pushed harder to maintain his pace, his scuffed and battered boots pushing against the grooved floor.

Three revolutions. Four revolutions. Five revolutions.

With each full turn, the crystals glowed brighter, and the gears fought him harder. Gritting his teeth, Harry bore down, pushing harder. Magical assistance would have helped things along, but sadly he had only his own physical prowess to rely upon. Croaker had stressed that any magical emission could upset the Big Combination, disrupting the delicate measurements of the machine.

Quite possibly the last thing Harry needed.

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.

Breath burning in his lungs, Harry dug deeper, drawing forth from the well of perseverance that had kept him going for so long, even after all hope had long ago been buried. Straining forward, his back in agony, his spine having been replaced with a white-hot iron, he continued to push, never giving the glowing arrow a chance to rest.

As he did, the crystals begin to glow brighter, inching towards their saturation point. Begging for more time, waves of heat rolling of the crystals, he pushed onward.

Ten.

Eleven.

Ignoring the agony in his back, which had become comparable to the Cruciatus Curse, he closed the distance to the final revolution, the light from the crystals becoming blinding, their heat making the air waver before his eyes. The light reflected off of the endless brass services, it was like he had been transported to the center of the sun.

Eyes nearly closed, Harry gave a final scream of effort as the point of the arrow came to rest directly in front of the XII.

Twelve.

His screams echoing throughout the cavern, his strength done, Harry began to collapses. As he did, the light in the room exploded, completely blinding him.

To oblivion or salvation, he was bound.

Both were better options than this dead fucking world.

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His eyes shut tightly, Harry was ripped backwards with such force that it stole the air from his lungs. With no breath to exclaim with, he flew through a blur of colors and shapes, unintelligible screams, whispers and shrieks echoing in his ears. Unable to blink, his eyes watered as the all-encompassing wind tore at his robes, tearing the bandolier containing all of his potion vials away.

Panicking, he tried to snatch at them, but it was like he was at the bottom of the ocean, where movement was impossible. Helpless, the greedy wind continued to tear at him, ripping off his robe, revealing his battered leather guards. The chain from the pocket-watch caught on his arm, wrapping around it snugly, cutting off the circulation. Not content, the wind continued its assault, beginning to tear at his wand holster.

Harry, in the face of the impossible, continued to struggle. The potions he could replace, but the…

As if reading his mind, the wind tore the low-slung belt from his prone body. For a fraction of a second, he saw the Elder Wand, snugly positioned with the holster, before it flew off into the unknown.

As one final indignation, the wind ripped away the last vestiges of his clothing, leaving him as bare as the day he exited the womb. He had a moment to consider that things were going to be far more difficult than he anticipated, before being slammed mercilessly against the ground.

He skidded roughly across a soft surface, throwing up dirt as he landed ungracefully in a jumble of tangled limbs. Before he could get his bearings, he began to vomit violently, the spasms wracking his entire body.

His stomach empty, he used the last of his strength to roll onto his back, away from the steaming contents of his stomach. Peering down from above him was an endless blue sky, with nary a cloud in sight. Though pleasant, the sight caused him to furrow his brow. Since when was their a sky in the Department of Mysteries?

He struggled to rise, but black began to cloud at corners of his vision. As the light dimmed, a child's voice rang out.

"Mommy, what's wrong with that man? And where's his clothes?"

A slight smile forming at the corners of his mouth, Harry mused that despite his lack of clothes, wand and supplies; at least the universe hadn't been destroyed by his actions.

Not yet, anyway.

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_His perforated lungs sucking in the cold, damp underground air, Harry whipped his wand forward, sending forth flecks of freshly spilled blood, which trailed behind his dark purple curse. _

_Unable to wriggle away from the stiff embrace of Pettigrew's recently decapitated corpse, the chainsaw cutter struck Voldemort's robed form in the midsection. In a glut of blood, both of them were torn in two. The Dark Lord's upper half fell backwards, spilling his innards out onto the cracked stone floor in a steaming pile._

_Without hesitation, heedless to his own blood loss, Harry surged forward, flinging another spell. It struck in the crook of his elbow, severing the appendage. Voldemort's lower arm, his long, white fingers still wrapped tightly around the Elder Wand, flew off into the darkness. _

_Voldemort, his crimson eyes filled with equal parts hatred and fear, held out his remaining arm._

"_Potter," he rasped, "wait-"_

_Before he could finish the sentence, Harry's spell had already collided with his forehead. It vaporized the Dark Lord from the eyebrows up, in a grotesque spray of blood, brain and bone. The impact knocked him down again, his form still. _

"_Master!"_

_Swiftly turning, he saw a killing curse strike Neville. As he fell, Bellatrix Lestrange rushed towards her fallen master, her violet eyes freed from the last restraints of sanity. Snarling, Harry flung a cutter, which severed her jugular in a crimson spurt, but didn't slow her progress. Before he could cast again, his wife surged forward, thrusting her wand forward._

_Ginny's curse struck Bellatrix in the back, detonating the last surviving Lestrange's midsection in a rain of blood and guts. With her final breath, she pitched her wand forward. Tracking its movement with his eyes, he saw it land beside her fallen master. _

_Little good it would do him._

"_Nice shot, Gin," Harry said, turning to his common-law wife, a smile forming upon his weathered features. The price had been immeasurably high, but they had finally done it._

_Riddle was fucking dead. _

"_I'm afraid not, Potter," a voice wheezed from behind him. Turning, Harry felt the anti-apparation wards collapse around them. _

_Despite missing his lower half and most of his head, Voldemort had managed to pluck Bellatrix's wand from the floor. Before he could do more than raise his own wand, Voldemort, his face splattered with gore, favored him with one final cold smile, before disappearing with a loud crack._

_Harry surged forward, but it was for naught. He, Ginny, and the other few surviving members of the Order had been left behind in this underground ruin, deep beneath the Fens._

_Voldemort had escaped._

_The Horcruxes were supposed to be it. Destroy them, Voldemort becomes mortal._

_What the fuck had they missed?_

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"Sir, can you hear me?"

Weakly, Harry felt his eyes flutter, beckoned by the pleasant female voice. He was apparently lying down, on some sort of soft surface, providing a comfort he hadn't had in ages. Was it the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding, when-

_Like delicate streams of fire, her hair splayed across the lush grass. Her eyes were closed slightly, as if breathing itself required careful attention. _

"_Ohhh…Harry," she whispered huskily as the back of his hand moved downwards from the pink hardness of nipple, puffy with her arousal. Downwards he trailed, across the pale, taut flesh of her stomach, brushing across her lightly freckled thigh, inching closer to her-_

Eyes flying open, the vision of better days dispersed.

He was in a small, private room of muggle design, judging by the heart monitor next to his bed, and the medicine cabinet on the far wall stocked full with pill bottles. Sparing a single glance to his right, he saw an IV sticking out of his arm, attached to a mobile saline drip.

"Good afternoon," the room's other occupant greeted, a young woman in bright turquoise scrubs, her coppery hair pulled back into a tight bun.

"I've got to leave," Harry mumbled, attempting to enter a sitting position, but the nurse placed her hand over his chest, halting his progress.

"You appear to have been through a lot, and need your rest," she said, her tone allowing for no discussion on the matter.

"No time to rest," Harry snapped, his blood beginning to re-circulate, bringing feeling back to his weary limbs.

With a sigh, her face scrunched up in annoyance, she raised up her right hand. Poking out from between her delicate, slender fingers was a plastic cylinder, topped by a bright red button.

"One push of this button, and I send morphine into your system, sending you back to sleep. That is, unless you want to behave. What's it gonna be?"

Fuck.

For a fraction of a second, he considered reaching out and breaking her neck with a sharp turn of his wrists, but quickly banished the idea. Though throughout the years the gap between himself and a common Death Eater had narrowed, he thought it better to have some moral superiority.

Besides, there was no guarantee he would get there before she pressed the button.

A scowl upon the heavily scarred visage of his face, Harry leaned back into the bedding.

"Much better," she said, lowering the device.

"Where am I?"

"Lewisham Hospital," she answered.

A fucking muggle hospital. Great.

The wheels of memory turning, Harry recalled landing in a park after being tossed through the vortex of time. Must have been a muggle one.

"What's the date?"

"That would be June 24th, 1995" she answered. Harry's face immediately broke into a wide smile.

It worked.

He may not have any of his potions or the Elder Wand, may have landed in the wrong place, but he had arrived on the right day, and most important of all, still had-

"And the time is," she continued, glancing at her bright pink watch, "quarter to four in the afternoon."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. Five of his hours were already gone. Everything he had carefully planned out was now completely unworkable.

"Fuck," Harry said to himself softly, in disbelief. Nearly half of his time had burned while he slept.

Sighing loudly, the nurse withdrew a familiar timepiece from her pocket, and held it out to him, the chain looped lazily through her fingers.

"This is the only thing we found on you. I assume that it's yours."

Harry nodded, transfixed by the gleaming brass, for a single moment forgetting his dilemma. It seemed that at least one piece of his former life had survived. Wordlessly, she approached closer, and pressed the pocket watch into his hand.

Several inches above where his curled fingers clutched the watch, several red, angry lines crossed his arm perpendicularly. Their slight sting was a miniscule price to pay for such a memento, but the hour hand, which was just past the five, reminded him that there was still much more to do.

Only seven hours remained to destroy all of Voldemort's horcruxes, and prevent his resurrection.

Hearing indignant yells, Harry tensed. Without warning, the door to his private ward was thrown open, admitting two crimson-robed Aurors, trailed by an irate, older nurse. Their arrival wasn't surprising, considering that his arrival into the past had probably fried the Unspeakables' monitoring equipment.

More than anything, he was lucky that they hadn't arrived while he had still been comatoase.

"You two have no right to be here!" she yelled, face reddened, her booming voice projecting absolute authority. To her disbelief, however, her orders were ignored by the two Aurors, as if she were no more significant than a fly.

Harry's eyes hardened as he surveyed the two. One was younger, probably fresh from the Auror academy. He had a slight build, not unlike Harry's, and a face that burned with embarrassment as he glanced nervously towards his partner, as if looking for guidance.

A look of distaste upon his hard face, John Dawlish paid no attention to his partner. Dawlish, who had saved his own floundering career by attaching himself like a leech to Umbridge, and following her all the way to the Muggleborn Registration Committee, sent a glare at the nurse.

"We're on police business," he said dismissively, before regarding Harry.

"Right," the older nurse replied with a derisive laugh. "Maybe I'd 'ave bought that on Halloween, but you jokers are a few months early. You show me your badges, or you show yourselves out."

Dawlish, his mouth thinned to a line, began to reach into his robes, clearly going for his wand.

Feeling the familiar rage wash over him, Harry raised his hand, imploring for Dawlish to stop. It was this sort of inferiority complex towards muggles that had strained their relations so badly during the war. Being ignored was one thing, but being treated as an inferior race was another.

"It's alright," he said calmly, "let them ask their questions."

His nurse threw a look at him, one which clearly implored for him to shut the fuck up.

"Please?" Harry begged, throwing her a wide smile. It probably clashed spectacularly with the weathering his features had taken over the years, but it must have spoke to her in some fashion, since it prompted a moment of indecision.

"Fine," she relented, "you have five minutes."

"And these two," the head nurse said, jabbing an angry finger at the two Aurors, "better 'ave some fuckin' ID when I come back."

Dawlish merely snorted derisively, while the Junior Auror suddenly found his feet very interesting. Not exactly surprising that Harry had never run into him during the war. If he had lasted more than a year, it would have been surprising.

"Cunt," the head nurse said under her breath, before heading towards the door. His own nurse sent him one final questioning look, to which Harry responded with a sharp nod, urging her to leave. She shrugged at his response, following her boss out the door.

As soon as the door closed, Dawlish turned and withdrew his wand, sealing the door.

With the experienced Auror's back turned, Harry kicked off his sheets and swiftly rolled off the bed. Jumping up, he grabbed the IV stand by its head, and swung it around in a long arc. The heavy, wheeled base smashed into the young Auror's stomach, knocking the breath from him in a loud whoosh. The impact flung him backwards into the medical cabinet, shattering the glass front, scattering bottles of pills and medicines across the pristine floor.

"Fuck," Dawlish cursed, turning, wand raised. Ripping the IV from his arm, Harry quickly looped the length of plastic around the Auror's arm and forced it upwards. The Auror's stunner hit the dropped ceiling with a minor detonation, reducing the cheap fiberglass to dust.

Grunting, Dawlish tried to bring his wand arm down, but Harry neatly stepped to his right and delivered a vicious head-butt to the taller Auror's chin. The force of the blow sent him stumbling backwards, into the wall.

Quickly grasping the IV stand again, Harry swung it as hard as he could, directly at the Junior Auror, who was still sprawled against the broken medicine cabinet, a dazed expression upon his face. His eyes widened like a deer in headlights, he only let out a low moan as the stand's base struck him in the side, driving him back into medicine cabinet, which collapsed under the blow.

As the Junior Auror tumbled to the ground, Harry turned his attention back to Dawlish, who was shaking off the cobwebs. Beginning to raise his wand, Harry darted forward and grabbed the man's wrist, turning it in sharply. With a hiss of pain, Dawlish dropped to his knee, attempting to relieve the pressure on his wrist. Spinning around the Auror, Harry pulled the wrist higher and pressed the bulk of his repositioned weight upon the back of the Auror's head, driving him face-first into the tiled floor with a loud crunch.

His senses prickling, Harry dove to the right, narrowly avoiding a stunner. With a sudden burst of speed, he jumped up and dove behind the hospital bed, providing a rudimentary cover from the spellfire.

"Y-y-you b-better surrender," the Junior Auror threatened, his voice shaking.

"What's your name, kid?" Harry asked, ignoring the idle threat.

"A-Adalius Pucey."

Suppressing a snort, Harry made his offer.

"Well, Adalius, my time's short, and I need to be going, so I'll make this short: You let me walk out that door, and I won't hurt you."

Young Adalius, after all, had just been doing his job. No need to push this any further if unnecessary. Besides, if Adalius was every bit the pussy his younger brother, Adrian, had been, he'd take the offer in a second.

"N-n-n-no, I can't-" was as far as he got before Harry, crouching low, began to rush the wheeled bed at young Adalius.

Fuck it, he had his chance.

The young Auror tried to hit Harry with another stunner, but it went flying harmlessly over his head. The rapidly moving bed struck Adalius in the thighs, knocking him backwards into the wall. Popping up, Harry delivered a sharp jab to the jaw, putting all his weight into the punch.

The junior Auror immediately went slack, his eyes rolling to the white. Pinched between the wall and bed, he slumped forward, unconscious.

His senses flaring again, Harry immediately dropped to the ground, a stunner just barely missing him. He spun quickly and scrambled towards Dawlish. The Auror swayed uncertainly on his feet, his nose and mouth still leaking blood. Broken, jagged teeth peered out from between his lips, snarling much like a feral dog too stupid to realize it can't win.

Harry leaped up from the ground and hit him with a flying tackle, driving him into the opposite wall. Moving back slightly, he sidestepped a poorly aimed punch from the Auror, and grabbed Dawlish's arm. With a fluid motion, he jerked it forward. The Auror was pulled forward, face-first. Harry brought his knee up, directly into his face. The blow flattened the Auror's nose against his face, causing it to once against spurt crimson.

His eyes unfocused, Dawlish slumped to the ground, the wand falling from his slack fingers.

"You always were a poor excuse for an Auror, John."

Hearing no reply, Harry reached down and plucked Dawlish's wand from the floor, firing a quick stunner at the prone man.

He gave the ash wand a brief glance, before shrugging. It wasn't his old wand, and it certainly was not the Elder Wand, but for now it would have to do. Moving quickly, he divested Adalius of his Auror his clothes.

"Sorry there, Adalius," Harry said while lacing up the boots, addressing their unconscious former owner, "but my need is greater than yours."

Quickly cleaning his new crimson robes, Harry considered obliviating the pair of them, before discarding the idea. Time was of the essence. After all, a few seconds here and there might make all the difference at the end.

For a moment, he considered his next step. His healing potions could have been replaced easily at Diagon Alley had he the time, but his time was precious. He'd just have to take greater care in avoiding injury.

No, far more disconcerting was the loss of the extractor. It had taken months to prepare, time he clearly didn't have now. Without it…

Well, it couldn't be helped. All that mattered was stopping Voldemort. Everything else was secondary.

Everything.

Consulting the pocket-watch, he saw that the hour hand was positioned just shy of the five. The fifth hour was drawing to a close, leaving only him with only seven remaining.

Fuck.

Feeling time slip through his fingers, Harry apparated from the hospital room with a small pop.

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Author Notes:

Here it is; the first full chapter. The next one will cover the sixth hour of Harry's desperate quest to stop Voldemort. I think it will be up within a week.

This story spawned from my current frustration with my main story, Sitra Ahra. It is still in progress, but has been fighting me every step of the way, and I'd rather write something different than nothing at all. The Unforgiving Minute is completely planned out, and will be ten chapters long, somewhere in the range of 70,000 – 80,000 words.

There's a fairly subtle Stephen King reference within this chapter. First to find it gets a shout out in the next chapter. Any guesses as to Harry's apparation destination? Correct guesses will net a user a similar mention.

This story was a plot-bunny that darklordmike put up for adoption. He's been missing for the past eight months from the world of fan-fiction, but his guidance in my early months of writing was invaluable, and to him, more than any other person, I credit with my writing skills. Thanks for the help, Mike, and may you once again in the future come back to the fandom.

Thanks to Mira Mirth for helping me hash out a lot of plot details. She is a constant source of inspiration and guidance. Also thanks to scaryisntit for his input.

Many thanks to the lovely Princess Serine for the beta work. That girl never fails to amaze with her quick turnaround.

Any questions or comments will be replied to. I love feedback, as it serves to keep my muse interested, and is very much appreciated. A simple "liked it" or "it sucked" is all I ask.

DLP Thanks:

Einstern, Lord Anarchy, greywizard-dumblemort, richardc29, Necrule Paen, CaffeineAddict


	3. VI: The Sixth Hour

The Unforgiving Minute

VI: The Sixth Hour

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**16:00**

With a slight pop of displaced air, Harry appeared on a flat slab of black rock, overlooking a dark, storm-tossed sea. Despite being late in the afternoon, the black clouds blotted out all of the sun's rays, throwing the island into a state indistinguishable from night.

Waves beat incessantly against the rocks below him, throwing surf high into the air, while a torrent of rain poured from the sky, soaking him to his core. Wind battered against his robes, its fingers grasping at him, trying to pull him into the sea.

Even on the brightest of days back home, the island prison Azkaban remained gloomier than ever. Perhaps their relationship was inversely proportional.

Oblivious to the elements, Harry turned and began to ascend the perilous path before him, haphazardly carved into the black stone. His boots splashing against the small river which poured down from the path, Harry bent over slightly, decreasing his body's resistance to the wind.

Following the mass breakout during his fifth-year at Hogwarts, this emergency Auror apparation point had been destroyed. Had it not been active, obtaining passage to Azkaban would have been nearly impossible.

If he succeeded today, it would never have to be disabled.

Various washouts peppered the walk as he made his way through the twisting crags of ebon stone, but it wasn't until fifty feet up that he met his first real challenge.

Taking a sharp right, the path cut across the face of the rock, parallel to the sea. Up ahead, a ten foot section of the path was washed completely away by a raging torrent, emptying out onto the rocks below.

Had he time to go to Diagon Alley, as originally planned, it would have been a simple matter to acquire a broom, and fly straight to the prison entrance. Fate, however, cared little for his plans, as this day had already proved numerous times.

Sparing a quick glance to the left, he observed several footholds and cracks in the rock face, spaced closely to one another. Pouring down the rock, however, was a thin sheet of water, making an already challenging climb even more difficult.

Fuck that.

Backing away for the edge of the washout, Harry withdrew Dawlish's stolen ash wand. Raising it aloft, he began to gather his magic within it, coiling it like a snake preparing to strike. Charging forward, Harry sprinted across the rain-slicked ground. Mere feet from the edge, Harry leaped into the air, swinging his wand behind him. Unleashing his magic, he flung an overpowered banisher aimed directly at the air beneath his feet.

Like a hard shove, the resultant concussion from his spell flung him across the channel. Moments before he hit the ground, he brought his wand forward, throwing a cushioning charm on the ground below. Despite the awkwardness of his descent from the air, Harry landed softly upon the ground, as if he had merely stepped across the chasm. Continuing up the path, he crested a small rise, revealing the fortress of Azkaban.

Constructed of the same stone which comprised this desolate crag nestled into the North Sea, only its unnatural flatness distinguished it from the island. Dark walls, thirty feet high enclosed the prison, making escape over the walls impossible. Four towers, each placed in close proximity to the walls, rose above the rest of the structure, providing the Aurors with an eagle-eye view of the island. Not that it did them much good in the driving storms so common to Azkaban.

There were only two ways in and out of Azkaban.

The first was the personnel entrance, located at the front of the island. All Aurors, employees or wizards possessing enough clout with the Ministry to grant visitation with a prisoner were admitted through the front door, into the entry way. Within the large entry way was the Auror control center, providing a communications hub for all human personnel. Branching off from the entry way, to either side, was access to the various locker rooms, break rooms and the kitchen.

Directly across from the front door was the entrance into the prison itself, a wide gate with four Aurors always on duty. All potential visitors were thoroughly searched for contraband or any magical items, and divested of their wands. Only Aurors were allowed into the prison with their wands.

The second entrance was on the opposite side of the island, where the walls actually reached out into the sea. The shipping entrance carried all supplies to the island, as well as prisoner transport. Numerous detection and defensive wards littered the watery entry way, while four Aurors with access to high-grade magical weaponry were stationed at the North tower, poised to blow any unwanted visitors out of the water.

Had Harry the time he needed, he would have been able to blow through the defenses with judicious use of runic mines, and fought his way into the processing center. Dispatching the three Aurors there, he would have been within the prison.

Alas, fate had robbed him of his trip to Diagon Alley, and all the supplies he needed.

Through the front door it would have to be.

Making his way down the crest, Harry slid smoothly down a small slope, landing on the wide road that connected the small dock at the island's edge to the front entrance. Blessed with more stable footing, Harry began to close the distance to the front door at a jog. Withdrawing his wand, he cast a quick disillusionment upon his body. Blending in with the storm, they wouldn't see him until he was right under their noses.

As he got closer, a deep chill began to penetrate his core, infinitely more potent than that of the storm.

The Dementors, the silent guards of Azkaban, had maintained their vigil for hundreds of years. So long had they been here, that their malice had even begun to penetrate the very stones which comprised the prison.

His heart growing heavy within his chest, Harry ascended the short set of stone steps, and stopped at the overhang directly above the door. Free from the incessant beating of the rain, he took a slightly winded breath, his fingers brushing against the dark stone. Without warning, he began to shiver violently.

"_Please, Harry," Ginny begged, the tears in her warm, brown eyes betraying the hardened contours of her jaw. "You don't have to do this."_

"_There's no other way," Harry answered sadly, shaking his head slightly. "If there was any other…believe me, I-I don't want to do this."_

Angrily, Harry shunted aside the memories. His time was short, far too much so to spend it on the past.

His hands shaking visibly, the memory still echoing faintly in his mind, Harry placed silencing charms upon his feet. Pointing his wand towards a rock close to the doorway, he altered its shape into a long, thin cylinder, perhaps a foot in length.

With another wave of his wand, he levitated a larger rock into the air. Thrusting his wand forward, he banished in into the unbreakable steel doors, where it collided with a loud bang.

Moments later, a woman adorned in crimson Auror robes stuck her head out the door, her wand held aloft. Though her form was good, her muscles were relaxed, as if she expected the culprit to be nothing more malevolent than the wind. A break-in hadn't been attempted on Azkaban in over a hundred years. As far as this witch was concerned, the chance of an attack was virtually zero.

Unfortunately for her, the hundred year streak had just officially ended.

As the middle-aged witch stepped away from the door, Harry pressed his wand into her back. Before she could react, he had hit her with a point-blank silencer. She tried to spin around to face her attacker, but Harry grabbed her robes and spun with her, using her momentum to fling her down the steps. She bounced down two of the steps, before landing face down at the bottom in a puddle, her wand skidding across the soaked ground.

She quickly scrambled across the wet stone, using all four limbs to gain traction. Diving, she scooped up her wand, and brought it up sharply. Hesitantly, she waved it in Harry's general direction, but couldn't get a fix on his location.

"Fuck," she mouthed silently, the charm preventing her from warning her fellow guard.

"Having a little trouble with the footing, Barnes?" came a jovial, male voice from within the building. His face a wide grin, a second Auror stepped out of the doorway, his hands on his hips.

The witch went to shout out a warning, temporarily forgetting her silenced state, until the reality of the situation hit her. Horror dawning in her eyes, she could only watch helplessly as her partner crumpled to the ground. Furious, she launched a cutter towards the left of where her fellow guard had been standing.

Harry neatly side-stepped the spell, before stepping over the stunned wizard. Moving inside the doorway, he reached back and closed the open side of the double-doors behind him. With a swift movement, he stuck his makeshift bar between the door handles, fusing the bar to the handle.

Sharp bangs rapped against the door, but Harry ignored them, facing forward.

Time to go to work.

X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X

The entryway was just as he remembered, though the atmosphere far more relaxed. Enveloped in bright light, the room provided a sharp counterpoint to the prison's exterior, despite being constructed of the same stone.

Carefully creeping forward, Harry pressed himself against one of the six square columns in the entryway, completely hiding his disillusioned form. Peering around the corner, he took inventory of the room's other occupants.

Taking up most of the far left corner was the control center, where a single Auror sat with his back to the door, conversing with two of his fellow guards.

Straight ahead, standing astride the magical scanner, were two more Aurors, talking to one another. Sturdy granite blocks four feet high flanked each side of the scanner, providing cover in the event of an attack.

To either side of him were corridors leading away from the main prison entrance, leading to various other rooms. All Aurors stationed on Azkaban worked one week rotations, creating the need for sleeping quarters, kitchens and recreational areas. Right now, there should have been eight Aurors in the entryway. Where was the missing one?

"Another seagull, Barnes?" the Auror sitting behind the control center asked without turning around.

Ignoring the guard, Harry quickly began to scratch Germanic runes onto square column in front of him. Closing the figure with a vertical slash of his wand, he quickly sidestepped to the column to the left, and began to scratch the same figure.

"Maybe she and Weatherbee decided to bump uglies out there," one of the other Aurors at the control center suggested.

Finishing the second rune, Harry moved forward to the next column, half of his ward complete. Just a little more time…

"Yeah, right, in the soddin' rain," a female voice said sarcastically. "Don't you two worry about it, I've got it covered."

Hearing footsteps, Harry quickly finished the third rune, before creeping over to the right-hand column.

Right as he began the final rune, the female Auror spied his handiwork on the door.

"Shit, guys, someone's sea-"

Harry's stunner caught her in the face, felling her. Turning back, he crossed the final line of the rune, and activated his hastily constructed box ward. Magic flared up around him in a bright arc, before fading away to nothing.

"Fuck, intruder, behind the column!" a male voice yelled. Whipping his wand around the corner, Harry launched a devastator at the command center. The grey spell struck with the force of a bomb, detonating the control center in a concussive blast that shook the room. The two Aurors were thrown backwards by the blast, hitting the wall with twin crunches.

The two remaining guards took cover behind the granite blocks, one of them launching a bludgeoner at his general direction. The spell bounced directly off of his one-way deflection ward with a shower of sparks, barely missing the caster's arm.

"He's got a fucking deflection ward!" the caster screamed.

Waving his own wand in a high arc, Harry sprayed forth gasoline from it, soaking the area near the prison entrance. Hurriedly, one of the Aurors began to transfigure the oil back into water. Jabbing his wand forward, Harry flung a concussion hex. The hex struck the granite with a gong, and interrupted the transfiguration. Pointing his wand downwards, Harry sprayed a wide column of flame from it, igniting the large puddle.

One of the Aurors screamed as fire lit beneath his feet, beginning to trail up his legs, before his partner hit him with a flame-freezing charm. Before he could react, Harry's stunner downed him, sending him tumbling to the ground.

"You fuckin' cunt!" the lone remaining Auror screamed, his voice filled with equal parts anger and pain.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Cursing to himself, Harry quickly conjured a physical shield just as the green killing curse struck the ward boundary. His quickly scribed runes detonated with a roar, spraying chunks of black stone around the room. They struck his shield like a hammer, driving him backwards.

Stumbling backwards, a bright blue spell barely missed him, colliding with the damaged column to his left. The spell burst like a balloon filled with water, spraying blue paint in every direction. Copious amount of it splattered upon his disillusioned form, rendering the charm useless.

"Take that ya fuckin' wanker!" the guard exclaimed, flinging a cutter, before ducking back behind the barrier. Moving forward, Harry swatted aside the curse, following up with a kinetic hammer.

With a curse, the Auror threw himself to the left as the granite block exploded. Dust and chips of stone rained down as the guard rolled to the left, directly into the path of Harry's leading stunner.

Following the dull thud of the Auror hitting the ground, silence reigned over the room, a heavy mixture of dust and smoke collecting in the air. With a wave of his wand, Harry cleared the smog, and extinguished the flames. Moving forward, he leapt over the remains of the control center, and approached the two Aurors downed in the blast.

One lay slumped at the base of the wall, a spreading pool of blood beneath his head. Casting a quick body-bind on the seriously hurt Auror, Harry surveyed the other one. Sitting against the wall, his wand arm bent at an unnatural angle, he spit a mouthful of blood at Harry.

"Death Eater scum," he spat, his eyes burning with hatred. Without hesitation, Harry brought his wand forward.

"_Imperio."_

The man's eyes glazed over upon contact with the curse.

"Rise," Harry ordered. As if he could not longer feel the pain of his internal injuries, the Auror rose swiftly. Speaking quickly, he commanded the guard to grab a prison key off one of his fellow jailers. Swiftly, the man plucked his nearby partner's key from his robes, handing Harry one of the two keys.

Wasting no time, Harry went to the far right of the main gate, and placed his key into the lock. On the opposite side, the guard did the same. On the count of three, they turned the key simultaneously.

The main prison door, a barred gate ten feet wide, slid open immediately. Without a look backwards, Harry ran through the date, his disillusionment charm fading into nothing as he passed the gates. No magical concealment was permitted within 'The Abyss', as the Aurors referred to the main prison complex.

"Protect your fellow guards should any Dementors come this way," Harry ordered, before stepping into the gloom which permeated the heart of Azkaban.

Getting past the unprepared, relaxed Aurors was the easy part.

Dealing with the Dementors would be much harder.

X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X

_All was silent within the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters, deep within Twelve Grimmauld Place. Each of them, the ones that had promised to follow Harry to the grave if it meant destroying Voldemort, dealt with their failures in different fashions. _

_After nine long years, it had seemed the end was at hand. After discovering Slytherin's underground temple, deep beneath the Fens, the hiding place of Voldemort's final horcrux, they had waited. For months Bill, Hermione and Harry studied the wards, deconstructing them so that they may be turned against their caster. _

_Six months later, they had done it. Intentionally tripping the wards had brought Voldemort to them. As he watched his final horcrux disintegrate into ash, Bill brought down his own wards, trapping the now-mortal Dark Lord amongst the entirety of the Order. _

_Victory was at hand. _

_Except, it hadn't been. _

_Voldemort had been ripped in half, had his brains painted across the floor, and yet still, somehow, had lived. _

_How?_

_All of his horcruxes had been gone. He should have died that night. _

_Except, he hadn't. _

_Hope, which had returned to them leading up to the night, had fled just as quickly as it had arrived. _

_Hermione Weasley leaned over several thick Dark Arts tomes, desperately searching for some clue as to how Voldemort could have survived. Despite the wealth of material in the Black library, he didn't expect her to find anything. _

_Zacharias Smith sat, his arms crossed stiffly over his chest. Angrily he gazed out at the other survivors, as if daring anyone to meet his stare. _

_Parvati Patil clung tightly to Dean Thomas, tears bright in their eyes, both of them mourning the loss of Padma Thomas. _

_Pomona Sprout, the last surviving professor from his time at Hogwarts, merely stared unblinkingly at the wall. From the sleeves of her large robes trailed leaves from the Reaper Vine she had successfully fused to her arms. _

_Oliver Wood, his expression a snarl, stalked from one end of the gloomy room to the other, dragging his false leg behind him. The sound of him slamming the quaffle from hand-to-hand was the loudest sound in the room. _

_Hannah Longbottom, her hair in ragged tangles, silently wailed upon Susan Bones' shoulder, devastated by the loss of her husband. _

_Octavius Pepper. Colin Creevey. Millicent Bulstrode. Martin Croaker. Ernie the conductor. _

_With a sigh, Harry wondered whether he should even rise at all. What could he possibly tell them that would inspire them to keep fighting, to carry on? _

_Gently, small fingers grasped his chin, and turned it to his right. Giving him a slight smile, she squeezed down reassuringly on their entwined hands._

"_We're with you no matter what happens, Harry," she said, her smile hiding the sorrow that hid behind her eyes. _

"_How can I ask them to continue fighting?" he replied, shaking his head. _

"_You can't," Zacharias snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at Harry. "You said that we could end the war. Were you lying, or are you just bloody clueless?"_

_Meeting the blonde's angry stare, Harry rose to his feet. Ginny turned toward former Hufflepuff, a snarl upon her face, but he placed his arm upon her shoulder. She stilled beneath his light touch, and sat back down, her eyes narrowed. Ginny would never back down for him, but would temporarily dam the floods of her own anger. _

_Surveying the room, he saw that all pairs of eyes, even the tear-brimmed ones, had turned towards him. Even if they had already mentally checked out of the war, at least they still wanted to hear what 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' had to say. _

"_Hours before Albus Dumbledore's untimely death," Harry began, his voice low, "he revealed to me the secret of Voldemort's survival. Information that I have shared with each and every one of you."_

"_The horcruxes," Hermione said softly._

_Harry gave a single nod._

"_As we have discovered, Voldemort believes in the magical significance of arithmantic laws. According to him, one possessed of a seven-part soul would be forever beyond the grasp of death."_

_Zacharias shook his head in denial, but said nothing._

"_Due to all of your help," Harry continued, matching gazes with all, "we were able to destroy his four remaining horcruxes. Locket, snake, diadem and cup."_

"_Why didn't he die?" Hannah asked with a wail, before re-burying her face within her hands._

_Harry shook his head._

"_I can't say. We're trying our hardest to figure it out, but we still have no idea."_

"_Could he have made more horcruxes?" Susan asked hesitantly._

"_A week ago, I would have said no. Now…I think so. However, that's not what I want to talk to you about."_

_At their confused glances, Harry took a deep breath, while Ginny reached up and squeezed his hand. Grateful for her support, he continued._

"_As you are all aware, following my sixth year at Hogwarts, I cut a deal with our former Minister, Rufus Scrimegeor, to endorse the Prophet's claim that I was 'The Chosen One'."_

_With that one sentence, even those whose interest had waned snapped back to attention. _

"_Before my birth, a prophecy was made about a child whom would be born on the last day of July."_

_Clearing his throat, he recited the words that had haunted his entire life._

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."_

_Dead silence met his words. _

_While some faces wore surprise, most of the other reactions were more varied. He saw understanding, sympathy, fear and even some anger. _

"_Ever since the contents of the prophecy were revealed to me, I've known that in the end, it was either going to be me or him. No matter what I did, no matter how far I ran, Voldemort would find me."_

"_Those of you who are thinking about leaving Britain, I cannot say that I blame you. Without fate hanging over my head, I may had even thought about getting as far away from my home as possible. Any that do choose to leave, I can't say that I blame you. Fighting a war for a home that's already been destroyed, against a Dark Lord that seems immortal?"_

_Harry shook his head._

"_That's a burden that no one should have to face. Really, I can't even say that we're ever going to discover the secret that keeps Voldemort alive. And, maybe we'll never see victory, but you know what?"_

_He took a second to look around the room, locking eyes with every other person. Some looked away, but most never dropped their gaze._

"_I can promise you, however, that I'm never going to stop fighting."_

"_Never."_

X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X

The heart of Azkaban, or, as the Aurors called it, 'The Abyss,' was laid out in a giant square, with cells outlining the edges of the quadrilateral. Four levels were stacked upon one another, each successive one digging deeper into the ancient stone of the island.

Taking an immediate right, Harry moved swiftly down the tunnel, lit by sputtering, flicking torches placed into the heavy buttresses between every cell. The all-encompassing cold of Azkaban was not the ideal atmosphere for fire to thrive.

Most of the cells were empty, as short-timers on Azkaban were a rarity. The few that were occupied he passed before their pale inhabitants could even register his presence.

Mere feet before the corner, Harry felt the chill of Azkaban increase ten-fold, penetrating his very core.

It was time.

Turning, Harry withdrew his wand, ripping the heavy cell door off its hinges. Suspending the barred iron door in midair, he began to wave his wand in a fast spiral, causing the metal to lose its shape. Concentrating fiercely, he drew his wand in, focusing the formless iron blob into a thick length of chain fifteen feet in length. With a slice of his wand, he carved the front of the chain to a spear-point's edge. Levitating his creation in front of him, he stepped around the corner.

Fifteen feet away, rising impossibly large before him, was an ebon-cloaked Dementor. Immediately, a familiar scream tore across his mind's eye.

"_We fucking trusted you, Harry!" Hermione screamed, spraying forth a fine mist of blood and spittle. "You were supposed to save us all, not kill us!"_

Ahead of Harry, the Dementor stretched out one of its arms. The dark cloth pulled back slightly, revealing a grey, slimy hand covered with scabs. Its breath rattling in his ears, it curled a single finger back towards itself, as if beckoning him closer, imploring for him to succumb to sorrow.

Fuck that.

With a snarl, Harry jabbed his wand forward. The length of chain surged forward into the chest of the Dementor, impaling it as it ripped through the dark fabric, before exiting through its back, blowing out scraps of cloth.

Twirling his wand around, he directed the chain to wrap around the silently struggling creature, forcing its arms to the side. With a slight flick to his right, Harry sent the Dementor flying to its left, directly into an empty cell, where it crashed against the stone wall.

Walking briskly, he slammed the door shut, before twisting the bars with a wave, fully trapping the creature inside.

Dementors may not have been killable, but were still perfect capable of being rendered helpless with a little transfiguration.

Up ahead, twenty feet or so, two Dementors glided out of the doorway leading to the east stairs. They had a second to turn towards him before he tore another cell door off its hinges, and banished it at high velocity. The large projectile knocked the dark creatures aside almost casually, sending them flying backwards down the hall.

Without hesitation Harry ignored the downed creatures and entered the hallway they had come from, casually summoning the length of chain from the first imprisoned Dementor. Clanging wildly as it flew past the twisted steel bars, a few moments later it had flown into Harry's grasp, just in time to step through the doorway. Beyond was a dimly lit landing, leading to a wide flight of stone stairs. He leaped down the ten steps with a single graceful movement, landing softly upon the stone floor. Turning, ice once again welled up inside his chest.

At the foot of the stairs leading up from the third level landing were two Dementors, gliding towards him. Whipping his wand at them, the chain surged forward, impaling the creature on the left. Obeying his command, the chain exited the back of the Dementor and swung back around, penetrating its companion through the back. Thrashing wildly, pinned like two insect specimens, he pulled the chain taut, forcing the two Dementors together. With a wave of his wand, he looped the chain ends around their legs and necks, before pulling his wand sharply inwards.

The two end of the chain met, bending both of the Dementors in half with a sound akin to brittle bones breaking. He quickly banishes the writhing mass of black robes and mottled skin back into the doorway it had arrived from, moving further down the stairs. He summoned his length of chain from the broken Dementors as he passed, Hermione's accusatory screams ringing in his mind. Ignoring them, he continued down to the second level, and rushed out into the hallway.

Swatting aside a single Dementor, Harry ripped the doors off of the nearest cell. He quickly deformed their shape and joined them with his length of chain, tripling its length. With two more Dementors closing in on each side, he ducked backwards out of the hallway.

The smell of rot grew more pronounced as he left the second level, onto the lowest level of Azkaban. Mold festered on the damp stone walls, barely lit by flickering, dying torchlight. In the icy depths of Azkaban dwelt the worst of wizarding society, incarcerated without hope of reprieve.

Harry had originally planned to execute every former Death Eater in Azkaban, but time had robbed him of the pleasure.

He'd only have time for one.

Splashing through the thin puddle of dark water which covered the bottom landing, Harry rushed out onto the lowest level. Shrouded in darkness, a single Dementor stood to his left, while further down the hall in the opposite direction, three of the creatures were gathered in front of a single cell.

Right in the direction he needed to go.

Swinging out with the long section of chain, Harry hammered the first Dementor into the wall, smashing it into the heavy masonry. Darting forward, past the momentarily stunned demon, Harry coiled the chain over his shoulders, before pointing his wand downwards, casting a tunneler. He quickly conjured a physical shield right as the grey spell struck the stone with a large explosion. Large bits of stone bounced harmlessly off his shield as a large crevasse appeared in the middle of the hallway.

"Has the Dark Lord finally returned?" a deep, Russian accented voice asked from his left. Turning, Harry beheld the cool, calm gaze of Antonin Dolohov. Despite his pale skin and wild facial hair, he had clearly maintained far better than most Azkaban prisoners.

"I do not remember you from before, perhaps you are a new recruit?" the Death Eater asked, gazing at Harry speculatively.

"I'm going to kill your Master," Harry stated plainly, before jabbing his wand forward. Dolohov's eyes had only a moment to grow wide before a short burst of napalm flame engulfed him. The Russian went up like a torch, his skin bubbling, his eyes liquefying within their sockets. With a scream of agony, the man leapt towards the toilet, attempting to douse himself.

Certainly he hadn't needed to kill Dolohov, but given a chance to kill one of Voldemort's most powerful followers, it had been hard to turn down.

Turning his gaze back to the right, the felled Dementor peeled itself off the wall, and began to advance on him. The chain immediately uncoiled from his neck and swung forward, batting the Dementor into the hole in the floor. It fell like a ragdoll, out of his line of sight, quickly followed by a heavy splash.

Turning back up the hallway, he saw five more of the creatures advancing towards him, their breath rattling even louder than normal.

"_I'm so sorry, Harry," Ginny said, her eyes bloodshot and tear-rimmed. With a trembling hand, she raised her wand in his direction, regret etched onto every line of her face._

Shaking his head, Harry shook himself free of the Dementors' mental shackles.

"Are you scared?" Harry asked with a snarl, before jabbing his wand forward. The sharpened chain flew forward, impaling the lead creature in the chest. It exited its back and wrapped itself around the Dementor's chest a single time before moving onto the second one in line. It tried to sidestep the link of chain, but moved far too slowly to avoid the sharp tip of the chain.

As the third Dementor in line was speared, the first one wrapped its death-like hands around the chain, and began to slowly pull itself forward.

"I don't think so," Harry said mockingly, bending to pick up a large rock with his left hand. He launched the rock at the Dementor's face, the blow knocking the creature's face back, jarring loose its grip on the chain. Still directing with his wand, the length of chain impaled the fifth Dementor and wrapped around the struggling creature.

Waving his wand in a hard inward arc, the chain rapidly changed direction. Unwillingly, thrashing as they flew through the air, the prone Dementors were dragged one-by-one into the crevasse, each creature splashing loudly as it hit the icy water below.

Without looking, Harry turned his wand downwards into the tunnel, and cast a powerful freezing charm, encasing the soul-stealers in ice.

Maybe the rest of their brethren would now think twice before approaching him.

His path clear, Harry sprinted down the hallway, turning left at the corner. Four cells down, on the left, was his target.

Positioned at the front of her cells, her pale, long fingers wrapped around the bars, Bellatrix Lestrange was dirty, smelled like an empty sewer, but her vitality had not yet been sapped away. Her violet eyes were wide with equal parts excitement and rapture, her mouth formed into a wide smile.

"Has our Lord decided to deliver his most faithful servant?"

With a dark chuckle, Harry waved his wand around. Like an accordion, the iron bars on the cells to either side of them stretched across the hall, blocking off any incoming access, should the Dementors decide to grow brave.

"The Dark Lord did not send me," Harry admitted, a cruel smile upon his face, "but I have come to deliver you."

X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X

_With a simple flick of his wand, Oliver Wood tore Wormtail's right ear away from his head with a heavy tear. Carelessly flinging his wand to the side, Wormtail's ear, trailing bits of torn flesh and drops of blood behind it, flew out of sight. _

_At Harry's slight nod, Padma cancelled her body-bind. Wormtail immediately began to openly weep, spasms wracking his body. _

"_How the fuck did you ever gain my parents' trust?" Harry asked, shaking his head with disgust. _

_Wormtail went to reply, but Neville surged past Harry and struck Wormtail with a Cruciatus Curse. The small, emaciated man fell off his chair, screaming in agony. As if in the grasp of a seizure, he thrashed upon the dirt floor. _

"_That's enough," Harry said quietly, after a few seconds. His breathing heavy, Neville cancelled the curse. Freed from the bonds of the pain curse, Wormtail began to scuttle backwards, but Wood was quicker. The former Keeper quickly forced a vial of clear substance down Wormtail's throat, before holding his mouth and nose shut. _

_The traitor resisted for a few short moments, but the years had worn away much of his fight. Wormtail's eyes quickly glazed over, the veritaserum breaking down his mental defenses. _

"_What's your name?" _

"_Peter Pettigrew," the man in question replied, his voice a dull monotone. _

"_Why did you betray the Potters?" Neville continued, his eyes hard. _

"_The Dark Lord would have killed me if I hadn't h-helped h-h-him," Wormtail answered, his voice hitching slightly. Had the years eaten away at the man's conscience, finally making him see the magnitude of his betrayal? _

_Well, the serum was clearly working. He sent a sharp nod in Padma's direction, urging her to begin. _

"_What do you know of Hufflepuff's Cup?" the dark-toned woman asked softly, providing a sharp counter-point to Neville's harsh words. _

"_After the Dark Lord won the Battle of Hogwarts, Bellatrix Lestrange presented it to him. He thanked her for keeping it safe all these years."_

"_Did Bellatrix have the Cup prior to his resurrection?" Padma asked, seeking clarity. _

"_Yes."_

_Internally, Harry cursed. Hufflepuff's Cup had been in hiding the entire time, they had just failed to find it. Where had that psychotic bitch hidden it? _

_Not one to dwell on the past, Harry shook his head. Nothing could be done about it now. Putting a hand on Padma's shoulder, he moved past her, and crouched down, so that he and Wormtail were at the same eye-level. _

"_Do you ever regret betraying my parents, Peter?"_

"_Every day," Wormtail answered, his voice barely above a whisper. _

"_Why?" Harry asked, his hand wrapped around the smooth handle of his wand. If Wormtail answered wrong, his days were numbered. _

"_I thought living a cursed life would be better than death, but I was wrong. The day I became the Potters' secret keeper, Lily hugged me close, her eyes filled with tears. Crying, she thanked me for being so brave, and I felt her love for me, for all she thought I was sacrificing. That…that was the first, and last time I ever thought that someone truly cared for me."_

_At his confession, all eyes in the room turned towards Harry, their unquestioned leader. They may not like his decision, but they would stick by it. _

"_If you had a chance to fix that mistake, would you do it, Peter?" Harry asked._

"_Yes," he answered, without hesitation. _

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"Crucio!"

Bellatrix's eyes widened for a moment before the scarlet curse struck her in the stomach. She let out a long screech of agony as she crumpled to the floor, wailing. He took a perverse sort of pleasure in her pain, viewing it as a pre-emptive payback for all the people she went on to kill after escaping Azkaban in his fifth-year at Hogwarts.

Sirius Black. Minerva McGonagall. Aberforth Dumbledore. Molly Weasley. Padma Thomas. Neville Longbottom.

All of their faces crossed across his vision as he raised his wand, canceling the curse. Bellatrix, gasping, gazed up from the damp floor, her body wracked with post-Cruciatus tremors, her violet eyes filled with hatred.

"You will never take milord's place," she said defiantly.

"A more likely guess than your first," Harry conceded, before hitting her with another torture curse. Her screams rolling across the darkened spaces beneath Azkaban, the ghosts of his past began to pull at his mind.

As in slow motion, he saw Sirius fall into the Veil. He saw Bellatrix laughing maniacally as her killing curse struck McGonagall, sending the former transfiguration professor crashing down onto the Hufflepuff table. He saw Aberforth shoving him into the fireplace in the Hog's Head, moments before Bellatrix's curse decapitated him in a geyser of crimson. He saw-

"No more," he whispered to himself, canceling the curse. Crouching down, moving closer to the bars that separated him and the youngest Black sister, he addressed her.

"However, once again incorrect."

She spat a mouthful of blood at him, which Harry ignored.

"Where's the Cup, Lestrange?"

There was no visible reaction on her face, only a quick shake of her head.

"What cup? I don't know-"

"Legilimens!" Harry shouted, cutting her off, entering her mind, following the strands of thought his question had provoked.

_Reverently, Bellatrix sank down to the ground. Where the hem of Voldemort's obsidian robes hovered an inch above the floor, she kissed the ground. _

"_I have an important task for you, my most loyal servant," Voldemort rasped._

Before he could pursue the thought more deeply, another image rose to the forefront, shunting aside the important memory.

_Her ringing laugh, only tinged with the barest traces of insanity, echoed throughout what once may have been an opulent living room. Smoking debris covered the plush crimson carpeting, burning holes in the floor. _

_Stepping carelessly on it, her boots crunching over shards of broken glass, she stepped over a fallen bookcase, and approached a cream-colored wall, where a young red-haired man was pinned to wall by small silver knives, through the wrists. _

"_Gideon, 'tis such a shame you chose to defy our Lord," Bellatrix crooned, shaking her head sadly. "Blood as pure as yours is such a rarity in this world."_

_Gideon grinned wide, displaying a mouth full of broken teeth and blood._

"_Perhaps that's true, but why then do you bow before the spawn of a muggle? Perhaps the kettle should stop call-"_

_Before he could finish the sentence, Bellatrix had wrenched his jaw open with her wand. Deftly, she reached into his mouth, and pulled out his tongue. Reaching into her robes, she withdrew another one of the silver knives and thrust it upwards, skewering his tongue. Pulling her arm backwards, the polished blade tore through the pink of his tongue, splitting the appendage in half. _

_Heedless to both the splatter of blood and Gideon's garbled screams, she addressed him coldly. _

"_If you cannot speak the truth, Prewett, then you are not deserving of a voice."_

Breaking eye contact with Bellatrix, Harry flung another Cruciatus at her. As she continued to thrash upon the floor, he shook his head slightly.

"It's going to take a bit more than that to make me blink," he said grimly, as Bella's body, in full throes of a seizure, began to smoke slightly from prolonged Cruciatus exposure. He cancelled the curse, causing Bellatrix to open her eyes with a gasp of relief. Moving quickly, he raised his wand, eye contact re-established.

"Legilimens!"

"_Rise, my faithful servant," Voldemort commanded. At once she complied, regaining her feet swiftly, her head bowed in respect. _

_Lightly, her Lord's fingers brushed against her neck, causing her to shiver. He gently raised her chin upwards, so that their gazes locked. _

"_I have an item of unparalleled value in my possession," Voldemort rasped, a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. Releasing her chin, he reached into his dark robes and withdrew a small golden cup. Twin handles with jewels set into them adorned each side, while an engraving of a badger covered the rest of the cup. _

The memory quickly faded, morphing into something else.

_Her robes stained with bright crimson stains, a pregnant witch skittered backwards across the white tiles, not unlike a crab. _

"_Where do you think you're going, Marlene," Bellatrix said mockingly, before swinging her wand down in a wide arc. _

_With a wail of terror, an unseen force grabbed the struggling witch by the foot and swung her around, slamming her into a nearby wall. Issuing a cry of agony, the witch fell from the shallow impression she had created in the sheetrock, spilling back onto the floor. _

_Bellatrix, moving quickly, jumped atop the woman and use for forearm to force the struggling woman's head against the floor. With a casual slash of her wand, she cut away the bottom of the witch's robes, carelessly slicing into her flesh._

"_No, please!" Marlene McKinnon begged, "you've already taken the rest of my family! Just leave my child alone!"_

"_Shhh," Bellatrix urged softly, forcing the woman's legs open with her knees. "It will all be over soon."_

_Bringing her wand down, she forced it between the woman's spread legs and thrust inward with it, penetrating her most sensitive area. Heedless to the cry of agony, Bellatrix fired off a spell into the woman's womb. Immediately, sticky bloody covered her hand. Satisfied, she withdrew the wand and got to her feet, leaving the sobbing, broken woman to herself. _

"_Isn't that much better?" Bellatrix asked with a chuckle. "Doesn't it feel so much better to have that impure blood purged from your womb?"_

_Her only reply from Marlene was more sobs, while a growing delta of crimson spread out from between her thighs, staining the while tiles. _

Rage filling his vision, Harry broke eye-contact and sent a third Cruciatus at Bellatrix. He held the curse for much longer this time, long after her body had started smoking. After a minute, the blood-vessels in her unfocused eyes burst, staining her corneas crimson. Abruptly stopping the curse, Harry lashed out with another legilimency attack.

"_Is that…" Bellatrix began, before closing her mouth quickly._

"_Indeed it is," Voldemort answered. "The last remaining Hufflepuff artifact. Needless to say, its value is inestimable. While I devise an appropriate spot to store it, I need you to keep this hidden in your vault at Gringotts. I care not what protections you place upon it, only that the Cup's safety is assured. Can I trust you with this task, Bella?"_

"_Yes, milord," Bellatrix answered, bowing her head._

Triumphantly, Harry withdrew her mind. Hufflepuff's Cup was at Gringotts.

In the background, Bellatrix began to wail, fully cognizant that she had betrayed one of her Lord's most precious secrets.

Her usefulness at an end, Harry banished Bellatrix into the opposite wall, which she struck with a dull thud. Before she could fall to the ground, Harry followed up with a yellow curse. It melted through her midsection like it was butter, before impacting the wall behind her.

The curse exploded with the force of a bomb, detonating Bellatrix's body in a spray of blood and gore. Opening the cell door, Harry cleansed himself of her gore, and gazed out the hole in the wall.

"That one was for Sirius," he said softly as the crashing of waves met his ears. Thirty feet below, the interior section of the square which made up 'The Abyss' faded into seawater, through one of the many fissures in the island's surface. Gazing upwards, he noted the bleak black stone which led up onto the upper levels of the prison. On the highest level, prisoners had the "luxury" of a small, barred window, so that at least they could see the sun rise in the morning.

Looking back behind him, Harry ripped the bars off the opposite cell. Merging them with the bars to Bellatrix's cell, he transfigured the steel into a long, thin chain. Unlike his previous one, this was not suited to combat, but its lack of girth allowed him to stretch it out to a length of close to a hundred feet.

Moving back to the hole in the wall, Harry shot his wand out it, pointing towards the window high above, on the opposite wide side of the dismal oubliette which made up the center of the island. The chain followed his command, flying out into the early-evening air. Squinting, he watched as it wrapped around the bars on the window high above. Taking a tight hold of the opposite end of the chain, wrapping it around his fists, he jumped out the hole.

For a moment he fell, before the chain pulled taut, the recoil nearly spilling him into the water. His fists ached as he clung on for dear life, his body slamming into the cold, damp stone.

Shrugging off the blow, Harry disentangled his wand-clenched hand from the chain, and pointed upwards. At once, the chain began to lift him upwards out of the dark depths. Pulled through the damp air, he gritted his teeth as the metal began to grate painfully against his hands.

Reaching the window, Harry lurched out to his left, his right hand closing around a small outcropping of black stone. Releasing the chain, Harry reached up with his left hand, leaving his wand-hand free. Whipping his wand backwards, the chain ripped the bars out of the stone, taking half of the wall with it. It fell swiftly into the water below with a large splash.

Taking a deep breath, Harry summoned the opposite end of the length of chain. It affixed itself to the steel bars of the empty cell. Grabbing onto it, he held tight as it pulled him into the prison cell.

Ignoring his aches and pains, Harry ruthlessly banished the cell door, sending it flying across the hall.

"What the fuck was that?" a strong voice yelled from within the corridor, to left.

Shit. The cavalry had arrived.

Conjuring a spherical magical shield around him, Harry leaped into the hallway, darting his head rapidly back and forth. To his left, two Aurors stood with their wands raised. To his right was a clear path to the south tower.

Perfect.

Backpedaling, twin stunners bouncing harmlessly off his shield, Harry backed into the entry way to the tower. Sealing the door shut with a wave of his wand, he turned and began to sprint up the square tower's stairs, taking them four at a time.

Blood pounding in his ears, Reductor Curses breaking through his rudimentary barrier, he increased his pace. Beginning to taste blood in the back of his throat, he reached the top. As he suspected, the tower had been vacated, with all island forces directed to stop the intruder.

Giving one final distrustful glance towards the stairs below, Harry quickly pointed his wand at his left arm, then his right arm, concentrating fiercely. Before they could shift, he placed the handle of the wand in his mouth, biting down hard. The wand placed, his arms began to burn painfully as the bones of his arms began to grind and flatten, spreading outwards. His skin stretched, before beginning to sprout crimson foliage. His fingers curled inwards and flattened, joining the bone structure of the wing.

He took a moment to spread his wings, which he had modeled after Fawkes foliage. While Pomona Sprout's forays into self-transfiguration had been met with distrust by some members of the Order, Harry had immediately realized the potential they possessed.

Taking a running jump, he leaped from the tower, maintaining its silent vigil over Azkaban. Instead of falling to the ground and splattering on the rocks below, his wings caught the wind and took hold, allowing him to soar away from the island.

Though his teeth were still clamped down on the wand, a smile still formed, born from the freedom he always felt while flying He thought of the Auror forces, positioned at the Azkaban gates to prevent him from using the emergency apparation point.

Little good it did them against his self-transfiguration.

Soaring towards the horizon, the wind and rain beating against his body, Harry considered his next move. While his first inclination was to go straight to Gringotts, logic stilled his hand. Breaking into the Lestrange vault would be by far the hardest part of his ordeal, if everything went according to plan. No, he couldn't just storm it unprepared. Without a broom, at the very least, he'd be fucked. Not to mention the healing potions, there was no way he'd get through the goblin's catacombs unscathed.

No, what he needed was a re-supply point.

At once, inspiration struck, an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. A rather unsettling smile upon his face, he passed the anti-apparation wards surrounding the island. With a small pop, he apparated away from the most desolate part of the North Sea.

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Author Notes:

Here be the second chapter. The next one will cover Harry's seventh hour in his desperate quest to stop Voldemort. It might be up in a week or two, depending upon how much writing I do during vacation.

Any guesses as to Harry's next destination?

Many thanks to the lovely Princess Serine for the beta work. That girl never fails to amaze with her quick turnaround.

Any questions or comments will be replied to. I love feedback, as it serves to keep my muse interested, and is very much appreciated. A simple "liked it" or "it sucked" is all I ask.

DLP Thanks:

Inert, shinysavage, neren, Einstern, Mog, Solcry, Portus, Jeram, Teresoul, Hashaheen, samkar, jjack1003, richardc269, Aldanon, drolly, vorenus, Sniz, animekingmike


	4. VII: The Seventh Hour

The Unforgiving Minute

VII: The Seventh Hour

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**17:00**

Swiftly cutting through the fabric of space, Harry landed upon the soft ground, flanked by lush elm trees. With a glance upwards, he observed that the sun had begun its gentle arc towards the horizon.

Time, as it always did, was slipping through his fingers.

Quickly, with a dexterity born from years of practice, be began to move his head in an elliptical motion, wand held tightly between his teeth. Ducking and contorting his upper body to compensate for the lack of movement options his head provided, he concentrated fiercely, his magic gathering at the tip of the wand.

Releasing his coiled magic, his scarlet wings began to revert back to human form, the bones ruthlessly grinding within his arms as they shrunk and thickened. Hissing in pain, he pushed onward, forcing the feathers back within his flesh, completing the transformation.

Allowing himself a deep breath, Harry shook out his aching arms once, before reaching into his robes with his newly regained hands. His heart heavy, he withdrew the brass pocket-watch, and opened the clasp.

Upon the bloodstained clock face, the minute hand rested a hair's breadth past the seventh Roman numeral.

Only six hours remained to stop Voldemort.

Closing the watch softly, Harry considered that at this very moment, the final preparations for the Third Task were being finalized for its planned start at dusk. Right now, Barty Crouch Junior, beneath the guise of Moody, could be enchanting the Triwizard Cup, transforming it into the portkey that would connect to the graveyard.

In a perfect world, he'd simply prevent it all from happening and just storm Riddle Manor early, wiping out Nagini, Wormtail and Voldemort in one fell strike of the blade.

Sadly, fate had conspired to rob him of this option. The passage of time was now his largest adversary. Shaking his head, Harry focused on the immediate task at hand. He didn't have time for the luxury of introspection.

He had a job to do.

Entering deeper into the woods, he came upon a large iron archway, nestled between high stone walls. Ivy wreathed its way through the black ironwork of the gate's frame, while thick, hollow vertical bars made up the center of the gate, a blood-red liquid trapped between the layers of black iron. Directly in the center was a large iron crest, a red shield with a black dragon upon it. There was a barely noticeable gap in the middle of the crest, indicating where it would split should the gate open.

Harry, however, had little intention of going through the front door to Malfoy Manor.

Walking to his left, passing the pristine blocks of polished granite which flanked the front gate, he came upon a large willow tree, rising high above the stone wall. Delicately, he began to run his hands over the soft bark of the tree. Halfway around its circumference, his fingers found a slightly upraised knot, and pressed into it, applying equal pressure to both sides.

With a subtle creak, the trunk of the tree began to split in two, quickly opening out into a small space just large enough to admit entrance. Guided by the rays of the dying sunlight, he saw rungs cut into the interior of the tree, leading downwards. Stepping into the tree's embrace he grasped the rough rungs, prompting the opening to close behind him, engulfing him in total, seamless darkness. Taking a deep breath, he began to descend.

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_For a moment he saw a flash of long, vibrant red hair trailing behind her before the door to the Black library was slammed shut with enough to disturb the dust that had settled atop the many ancient tomes. _

"_One would think that the 'good guys' would be slightly more accommodating," Draco Malfoy drawled, before taking a small nip from a polished silver flask. _

_Harry shrugged at the observation. _

"_Can you really blame them? The last time the Order had a spy it didn't end up working to well."_

_Draco waved his arm carelessly, unconcerned with Harry's point. _

"_Snape had no vested interest in either side's victory."_

"_And you do?" Harry asked, raising a single eyebrow._

"_You know I do." _

_Harry inclined his head slightly, acknowledging his newest ally. He had already been told, under the grip of Veritaserum, of the Malfoy family's debasement at the hands of Voldemort and his Inner Circle. His father long-dead, Draco and his mother were little more than refugees, having been expelled from their own Manor, which Voldemort had appropriated for his own use as a home._

"_How long has Malfoy Manor been standing?" Harry asked._

"_Seven centuries," Draco replied bitterly, "Predating even the Ministry. Now I need 'clearance' to center my own home."_

"_And you're certain there's no hidden entrances? Harry asked, visions of ambushing the Voldemort and finally ending the war dancing in his mind. _

_Draco shook his head._

"_The Dark Lord completely redid the wards, sealing up all of the old entrances. Believe me, if he hadn't…"_

_The Malfoy scion trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished. For a moment, Harry was curious as to how the wards could have been bypassed, but decided to hold his tongue. Another day. _

"_And all it took for you to switch sides was being evicted. Shame it didn't happen sooner."_

_Draco's eyes narrowed at the statement._

"_Another gross over-simplification. There's far more to it than that, and you know it, Potter."_

"_I know," Harry replied, waving a hand in deference. _

"_You haven't quite seemed to grasp it, though," Draco said, leaning forward, resting his elbows upon his thighs. "So I'll say it again: service to the Dark Lord is slavery. We Malfoys were once proud, respected, even revered in social circles. We supported the Dark Lord during his rise to power, gave everything to assure his victory and to appease every ill-conceived whim. And what's our fucking reward? My father dead, my mother serving as the Inner Circle's whore, our family's prestige dragged through the mud."_

"_We deserve better," he finished, his voice barely above a whisper. _

"_Are you truly prepared to betray Voldemort?" Harry asked. "I can't promise our side is going to win, and you'll only be able to fool him for so long."_

"I am.

"_I hope so. Voldemort's been disappearing for long periods of time since the Battle of Hogwarts, leaving only his Death Eaters to run things. Whatever he's spending his time on, I need to know about it."_

"_For your sake, I hope that he's not working on Fidelius Charm evasion," Draco said lightly, sparing a wide, sweeping glance across the library. _

"_I'm hoping that's not the case," Harry dryly replied. _

"_Indeed. Anything else before I once again depart?_

"_Yeah. Take care of yourself."_

_Draco smirked slightly._

"_Judging by your ginger's reaction to my presence, it seems like you've more to worry about."_

_Harry shrugged._

"_Your father did try to kill her, and nearly succeeded."_

_Draco let out a short, insincere laugh that did nothing to banish the regret from his eyes._

"_I never said I blamed her," he said, before stepping out of the library, closing the door softly behind him. _

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Encased in pure darkness within the tree, Harry had only his sense of touch to guide him down the rungs. Counting as he descended, he got to thirteen rungs before his feet touched down upon soft, packed earth.

Up ahead, the distance undeterminable, floated a single blue pinprick of light. Reaching into his robes he withdrew his wand and pointed it directly at the faint luminescence. Gazing down the polished shaft, he aligned the tip with the faint light.

Slowly, placing one foot in front of the other, he began to walk forwards, keeping the blue light directly in his line of sight. As he walked, noise met his ears, barely audible over his own slight footfalls. On either side of him, in utter darkness, came an alien shuffling sound, almost like wind-tossed branches rubbing against one another. He could make out nothing but the scarcity of light, but it almost seemed as if the darkness in his peripherals was shifting and weaving within itself.

Like the shadows themselves had come to life.

A light, cold sweat breaking out across his body, Harry immediately re-checked the wand to assure that it was still on course with the blue light. He moved it a hair to the right, causing the shifting darkness to still. Taking care to not stray to either side, he continued down the unseen path, the blue light slowly growing larger.

After what seemed like an eternity he reached the light. Being careful not to move too quickly, he pushed his left hand against the flat crystalline object and pushed. With a creak, the wall holding the crystal swung inward, admitting entrance. Harry quickly passed through the open section. As soon as he passed the threshold the wall closed behind him, sealing off the shifting darkness he had passed through.

Letting out a relieved breath, Harry cast a dim light from his wand, evoking protest from his dilated pupils. Ignoring the slight burn, he observed weathered and worn stone formations framing wide marble columns, stretching upwards into the darkness. The faraway drips of water echoing in his ears, he walked beneath the ancient stonework, which had supported Malfoy Manor for centuries.

Draco had never explained what had lurked on either side of the path, but had stressed that one would be well advised to never use light, move quickly or stray from the path.

Harry felt no great urge to test the validity of the advice.

Wand held aloft, he continued to walk the damp stone floor. After forty steps he took a right-hand turn, standing before a section of worn stone that looked no different from any he'd seen so far. He rapped lightly upon the seemingly flawless wall with his knuckles, listening closely. It was his tenth strike that finally yielded a slight vibration that none of his others had achieved.

Flinging a Reductor at the wall, he closed his eyes, conjuring a physical shield. Stone shrapnel impacted against the shield, knocking him back slightly, but leaving him without harm. Canceling the shield, he re-opened his eyes. Through the haze of dust, he spied a small fissure in the wall, leading into a hollow space perhaps six feet wide. Into the furthest wall wide depressions had been cut leading upwards, forming a rudimentary ladder.

Placing his wand between his teeth, he began to pull himself up quickly. After twenty rungs he reached up with his free hand, touching a wooden floor. Carefully, he pushed upwards, feeling the trapdoor yield. Once open all the way, he pulled himself up, into what appeared to be a small closet, the shelves stacked high with sheets and bedding.

Letting his jaw relax, Harry plucked the wand from his teeth and disillusioned himself. Pointing his wand downwards he silenced his feet, before hitting the maple door with a specialized revealing spell. At once the thick door faded into transparency, becoming a one-way mirror.

Beyond lay a hallway carpeted with a plush green. Dark grey walls stretched out on either side, broken by ornate stone archways stretching the hall. Large, maple doors facing one another fell away to either side of his view.

Most importantly, however, he noted the distinct lack of paintings or house-elves.

The coast was clear.

Quietly exiting the room, Harry cast an amplification charm upon his ears. His feet silent on the plush carpeting, he crept from room to room, listening for any signs of the owners. He heard the patter of rodent's feet upon the floor, and the faraway ticking of clocks, the subtle friction of their gears.

"I have had quite enough of humoring these dignitaries to last several lifetimes, let alone this one."

Most pertinent, however, was Lucius Malfoy's cold, aristocratic drawl, coming from further down the hall. Moving swiftly, Harry followed the sound of the voice, towards the end of the hallway.

"Was it not you who claimed that no victory was achieved without sacrifice?" Narcissa asked, an amused note in her voice.

"Indeed, I sacrificed my dignity," Lucius pointed out, his voice weary.

"I hardly think that they're contagious, love."

His ear pressed to the wall, pin-pointed Lucius' location as being right in front of him. The wall was too thick for the revealing spell, and the door too obvious an entry point.

Brute force it would have to be.

Thrusting his wand forward, a large orange spell erupted from his wand. It punched through the stone wall like tissue paper, before detonating with a large crack, spraying dust and pulverized stone into the room.

Stifling his urge to cough, Harry fired a solar flare into the room, before raising his foot to kick the door open. Hearing a loud crack behind him, he instinctively conjured a physical shield. A hail of knives bounced harmlessly off the shield, clattering loudly to the floor.

"You will not be harming Masters!" a short, wrinkly house-elf screamed, its arms thrown into the air. Vanishing the shield, Harry quickly banished the still-moving cutlery at the house-elf. The knives tore through the house-elf easily, shredding the diminutive creature. Before he could wonder why the House-elf hadn't moved, a large object hit him from behind, knocking him to the floor face-first.

The heavy door fell atop him, driving his face into the ground with a crunch. With a grunt, he threw off the door and rolled to the side, barely avoiding a purple curse which scorched the ground where his head bad just been.

Bringing his wand forward, Harry replied with a stunner. Lucius Malfoy, his expensive robes caked in dust and shredded in places, leaped over the crimson spell and brought his wand down like a sword, a feral snarl upon his normally calm face.

Harry deflected the severing curse with a swat to his right, grabbing Lucius' wrist. Jerking it downwards, he sent Lucius' Piercing Curse into the ground. On his back, Harry planted a foot in Lucius' chest and rolled backwards. The Malfoy patriarch was flung into the air, crashing back-first into a mirror. Falling fast, he tried to break his fall, but both wrists bent backwards with a crack, eliciting a scream of pain from the pureblood.

His senses tingling, Harry leapt to the side. A streak of malicious green light flew by his left, missing his arm by inches, filling his senses with the familiar stench of death. Turning as the killing curse struck the wall with a blast, Harry lashed out with a Levicorpus. Unprepared, Narcissa Malfoy was roughly upended, her wand sent flying.

"You will let me down!" Narcissa screamed, her platinum blonde hair hanging in her face. "Do you-"

Harry unceremoniously felled her with a stunner, sending her crashing to the floor. Turning, he saw a bleeding Lucius struggling to pick up his wand with wrists that bent in the wrong direction. He quickly stunned the man, ignoring his heart, which was battle ready and screaming for blood.

He'd have to deny it for now. He needed the Malfoys alive.

For the moment, anyway.

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Dust covered the ornate sitting room, violating its once pristine state. The polished sheen of the mahogany bookshelves was now cloudy, flecked with small particles of stone. The plush, soft wine-red carpeting looked like it hadn't been cleaned in ages. An upended chair, presumably where Lucius had been sitting when the blast had knocked him over, lay forlorn upon the floor, its shredded leather exterior leaking stuffing.

In the middle of the ruined room, the elder Malfoys awoke slowly. Their senses returning, they tried to move, but were thwarted by the thick ropes binding them to the room's two remaining armchairs.

Almost casually, Harry tossed a large porcelain vase at their feet. The piece of pottery exploded like a gunshot, bringing both Malfoys crashing back into harsh reality. Lucius recovered first, his cold grey eyes banishing the fear, replacing it with disdain.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked haughtily, provoking a slight chuckle from Harry. Even bound and tied, within his own home, he still spoke to Harry as if he were a mere underling.

"Who you are does not matter," he replied, "Nor do any of your questions."

Lucius opened his mouth to speak, prompting Harry to draw his wand. He hit the Malfoy patriarch with a silencer, not allowing a single syllable to escape. After a second's thought, he favored Narcissa with the same treatment, leaving both of the Malfoys with only the ability to mouth their threats at him.

"What does matter," Harry continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted, "is that my time is short, and you have things that I need. If you help me to find them, you will live. If not…well, we're not there yet. Nod if you understand."

Both Malfoys immediately ceased their silent tirades. They shared a single glance, before responding with immediate nods. His unspoken threat had focused their minds, forcing them from righteous indignation to pure self-preservation.

"Good," Harry said with a nod, glancing at Lucius. "You have a Potions storeroom, correct?"

At his confirmation, Harry shifted his gaze to Narcissa.

"Your husband and I are going retrieve a few items, but while we're gone, I want you to think real hard, and try to remember where your dear sister's vault key is."

Her eyes widened in surprise at his question, clearly being the last thing she had expected to hear. Harry hit her with a quick body-bind, before turning to her husband. Enraged, Lucius began to thrash against his bonds, though the tight trusses didn't allow for much mobility.

"_Imperio."_

Lucius' eyes immediately clouded over at his Unforgivable. Easily crushing the Malfoy patriarch's will, Harry instructed him to stand still, an order immediately complied with. Waving his wand, Lucius' damaged wrists began to move back to their natural position with a dull grinding of bone. After all, his new-found servant wouldn't be any use to him without use of his hands.

Undoing his bonds, Harry ordered Lucius to take him to the Malfoy repository, as quickly as possible. Throwing open the door, Malfoy rushed through at an awkward run, very much unlike his straight-backed, aristocratic strut.

With a slight smile of amusement, Harry followed Lucius down the ornate hallway, trailing right behind him. To the end of the hall they went, through a pair of dark-red mahogany double-doors.

The Malfoy repository was larger than most Harry had seen, perhaps twenty feet both wide and long. Portraits bereft of ownership lined the sides of the room, while a large shelf took up the entire far wall, comprised of individual glass compartments lined with purple plush on the bottom. At the bottom of the plush was a long indentation, within which a single wand resided.

Harry gave the room a single glance, before directing his attention back to Lucius. Slowly, he began to recite a list of potions, to see if Lucius even had them stocked. He hadn't any Felix Felicis in stock, but did have all the healing potions he required, as well as Veritaserum, Pepper-Up, explosive potions and most promising of all, Polyjuice.

He ordered Lucius to acquire all of the potions, as well as a bandolier to hold the potions, a silver knife and a quality broom. Without question, Malfoy rushed off, leaving Harry to himself.

Left to his own devices, he approached the shelf. Pulling open one of the glass compartments, he withdrew an ash wand, pockmarked with shrapnel. Giving it a sharp wave, a few sparks drifted out, but little more. Shrugging, he replaced it, reaching for another compartment.

As a Dark family that had been around for countless generations, the Malfoys had produced more than their fair share of witches and wizards. Each compartment housed a wand taken from a defeated enemy, of which there had been many throughout the years. With the sheer amount of wands available, it was reasonable to assume that he could find a more compatible wand.

Dawlish's was serviceable, but he needed better if things started to fall apart beneath Gringotts. Serviceable wouldn't cut it against the goblins' defenses.

Raising the fourth wand, a cherry one, he felt a slight warmth in his fingers. Whipping it to his right, he launched a cutter into the wall. After a moment's debate, he returned the wand. A good wand, but he could probably do better.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Turning, Harry saw a thin-faced wizard with platinum blonde hair sneering at him from a portrait. Without answering, Harry plucked another wand from the shelf and flung a Reductor at the painting. Giving a small yell, the wizard disappeared from sight moments before the spell struck the portrait, detonating it.

"Even worse than before," Harry muttered, shaking his head.

Wand-by-wand he went. Every one which sparked a connection, he tested on a portrait, drastically altering the ambience of the room. With only two portraits remaining, he pulled a slender yew wand from the shelf. At once, potent warmth spread from his fingers, running up his arm. Turning, he flung a blasting curse at the wall, decimating the second-to-last remaining portrait.

For a second, he raised the piece of yew in the air, examining it. Certainly not as potent as his original wand, not to mention the Elder, but to expect anything better would be foolishly optimistic. Casually tossing aside Dawlish's, he pocketed the new wand. Yew, just like Voldemort's had been.

Chalking it up to mere coincidence, he blasted the final portrait out of existence. As the scraps of burnt fabric floated lazily to the ground, the door to the room opened, admitting Lucius. His arms were full, precariously balancing vials of potions and a broom.

"Put them on the desk," Harry commanded, shaking his head. It would be a minor miracle if he hadn't dropped any of them on the way back. Lucius did as commanded, spilling the contents onto the desk.

"Did you find them all?" Harry asked, beginning to go through the flasks.

"I did," Lucius answered simply.

"Good," Harry answered, plucking a flesh-knitting potion from the table. He uncorked it, and held it out to Lucius, who took it.

"You're hurt," Harry said, eyeing the still-weeping rents in Lucius' flesh, courtesy of Harry's Reductor. "Use the potion."

Without hesitation, Lucius took a deep swig of the blue potion. Watching carefully, Harry observed as thick scabs began to form over Lucius' wounds, before paling to a shade slightly darker than his fair skin. Satisfied, Harry nodded. If Malfoy had broken the Imperius, his first act would have most likely been to poison his healing potions.

Healing potions were fickle in nature. Even the smallest addition to the formula would have immediately negated the healing properties.

"Do you have the silver knife?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Lucius mechanically answered, withdrawing the silver knife from his robes, and placing it, handle first, into Harry's outstretched hand.

Gripping the handle tightly, Harry raised the gleaming blade. With his left hand, he took a hold of Lucuis' hair. Slashing horizontally, he neatly cut through the platinum blonde hair. A patch of hair clutched in his fist, Harry drew back his hand, placing the severed locks on the desk. Sifting through the vials, he withdrew the vial containing the Polyjuice, and poured half of the mud-like substance into an empty vial. Adding a lock of platinum hair to the vial, it immediately transformed into a dirty, vomit-colored yellow.

He swigged the foul concoction quickly, grimacing at its foul taste. At once his insides began to churn unpleasantly, as the potion took hold. His bones stretched as he grew taller, his short-cropped black hair lengthening. Taking a tentative step, he felt the relative frailty of his new body, which lacked the hard musculature of his own.

"Thanks for the body," Harry said, turning to his wide-eyed doppelganger, wand raised, "but I'm afraid your usefulness is at an end."

"_Avada Kedavra."_

The green light struck Lucius in the face, the life voiding his eyes as he crumpled to the floor. Kneeling down, Harry began to divest the recently deceased Lucius of his robes.

That made three less Death-Eaters in this world.

A fine start, but he was just getting warmed up.

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_Deep within Grimmauld Place, in what had once served as sitting room, sat Harry Potter, his right arm wrapped around Ginny's waist. Oliver continued his ceaseless pacing, continuing to pound a Quaffle from hand-to-hand. Hermione was hunched over a thick tome that seemed to be constructed of flayed human skin, her eyes so bloodshot they bore an unsettling resemblance to Voldemort's. Croaker, Ernie and Sprout sat together in a corner, talking in hushed tones. Millicent leaned against the wall, her large arms crossed over her large frame, her familiar scowl firmly in place. _

"_I gave you time," Zacharias said with a heavy sigh, from the chair across from Harry, "but what's the plan now?"_

"_What, you thinking of leaving too?" Oliver asked with a sneer. _

_The defections had started immediately following his speech four days ago. Parvati and Dean had been the first to leave, gone the next morning. Hannah and Susan had been next, her husband's death having sapped all will to fight. Octavius had been next, fleeing to mainland Europe. And faithful Colin Creevey…_

_A day ago, they had found him in his room, wrists flayed wide open, a note stuck to his chest._

'_I'm so sorry I failed you, Harry.'_

_In the blink of an eye, the Order had been decreased by more than a third. It hadn't struck Harry as surprise, but it had hurt all the same._

_God how it had hurt._

"_Why don't you go fuck yourself?" Zacharias suggested, turning to face the burly man. Grinning madly, Wood began to advance on Smith, the quaffle falling from his fingers. Madness danced in his eyes, while a smile stretched across his face. _

"_That's enough," Harry snapped, speaking for the first time. Uncoiling his arm from Ginny's petite frame, he stood, looking directly into Wood's eyes. "We have too many enemies to be fighting allies."_

"_Fine," Wood conceded with a shrug, before plodding over to a nearby chair and sitting, his arms crossed._

_Taking a deep breath, Harry swept his eyes around the room._

"_First off, I want to thank you all for staying here and continuing to fight with me."_

"_We're with you to the end," Ginny assured from behind him. _

"_Aye," Wood agreed, his sentiment echoed by several others within the room._

"_Which I'm thankful for," Harry said with a slight bow of his head, "but in answer to Smith's original question, that's why I've gathered you all today."_

_He took a deep breath, knowing that he was about to ask a lot of them._

"_I need to get into Hogwarts."_

_Dead silence met his statement. An expected reaction. _

_While Malfoy Manor may have been Voldemort's residence, following the Battle of Hogwarts, it had become the base of operations for Voldemort's armies. Where once stood a place of learning, now was a training facility for Voldemort's armies, which swelled in number with each passing day. Worse still, vampires, werewolves, giants and all variety of other Dark creatures spurned by the Ministry had taken up the Dark Lord's banner and now took up residence at Hogwarts._

"_Harry, that's suicide," Hermione hissed, breaking the silence._

"_Perhaps, but I think the answer to ending this war lies inside."_

"_Why?" Zacharias asked, his eyes narrowed. _

"_Dumbledore's portrait."_

_Hermione shook her head vehemently._

"_Assuming it hasn't been destroyed, which I'm certain it has, didn't he already tell you everything?"_

"_Through the years, there were always things that I could tell Dumbledore was hiding from me. If not for a chance encounter with Trelawney, I would never have known Snape was the one who had betrayed my parents. He…he would only part with information on his terms. He waited fifteen years to inform me of the prophecy. I can't help but think there was more to this war, to Voldemort, that he kept hidden from me."_

"_She's right though," Zacharias said after a moment's pause, glancing at Hermione quickly. "The first thing Voldemort would have done after the Battle of Hogwarts was to mock Dumbledore, before destroying his portrait."_

"_Probably," Harry conceded, "but before Hogwarts fell, Headmistress McGonagall had sealed the Headmaster's Office. According to Draco, Voldemort could never open it."_

"_What makes you think you could?" Zacharias asked, crossing his arms. "Didn't she take that secret to her grave?"_

_Harry shook his head._

"_Do any of you remember, back during my fifth year, when Umbridge was locked out of the Headmaster's Office after Dumbledore left?"_

_Zacharias, Hermione and Millicent answered in the affirmative._

"_The Headmaster alone has the ability to seal the office, but the school itself must accept the Headmaster. Umbridge was granted the title of Headmaster by a bureaucracy, something which the school would never accept."_

"_Harry," Hermione began, her voice tired, "McGonagall was the last Headmaster of Hogwarts. If the secret died with her, then how do you ever expect to open the office?"_

"_The secret didn't die with her," Ginny declared, a small, proud smile upon her face._

_The room's occupants stared at the last surviving Weasley with equal parts confusion and surprise. Hermione, naturally, was the first to get it, her mouth forming into an 'O' shape as comprehension dawned._

"_Harry, are you the Headmaster of Hogwarts?" she asked breathlessly. _

"_Indeed," Harry said, bowing slightly._

_As the foundations of Hogwarts had shook all those years ago, McGonagall had transferred the title to him. He had been doubtful at the time, but Hogwarts had accepted him without question, and it now appeared her gambit had paid off. _

"_Bloody hell!" Wood said with roaring laugh, slamming his hand down on a table. "You're always full of surprises. Fuck, what more is there to it? Harry says we need to get him into Hogwarts, I say we get him in!"_

_Almost in unison, the room's other occupants echoed Wood's sentiment. Even Zacharias, albeit reluctantly. _

"_So what's the plan, boss?" Oliver asked._

'_So easily they lay down their lives for me," Harry thought sadly, "Even when I can't promise them victory.'_

_Solemnly, he began to lay out the plan._

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Under the guise of Lucius Malfoy, now deceased, Harry strode down the hallway. Though perhaps astronomical in cost when bought, the dark robes that clung to his frame were worth significantly less now, being full of rents and holes. On his right shoulder, arm and back, recently-healed flesh hid behind the fabric. In six hours the smooth scab would flake away, leaving the skin completely restored to its former state.

That was, if he intended to wear this body for more than an hour.

Hidden by the robes, a heavy potions bandolier hung, while Lucius' silver knife was wedged between the belt and the small of his back. A shrunken broom resided within one of his interior pockets.

He was almost ready to storm Gringotts. All that was needed was his guest.

Reaching the drawing room, he stormed through the doorway, his face set into determination. Frozen beneath her bonds, Narcissa's only reaction was a widening of the eyes, gleaming brightly with pride.

"That mudblood thief had no idea who he was dealing with," Harry sneered as he kneeled down, cutting through her bonds with a downward slash of Lucius' former wand, before dispelling the body-bind. Freed, she jumped from the chair and flung herself at Harry, wrapping him in a tight embrace, burying her head within the crook of his neck.

"I thought you were dead," she said, pressing herself into him. Wrapping his arms around her, wand in his right hand, he ran his other hand through her platinum blonde locks.

"We have triumphed over far worse," Harry assured her, simultaneously hitting her with a silent Confundus charm. Though a typically harmless charm, it did break down one's resistance to mental control.

At once, she moved her head upwards slightly, suctioning her lips against his neck. Her hands moved stealthily from his back, and began to move their way forward to caress the front of his robes.

She began to move downwards, her knees bending slightly as she trailed alternating kisses and nibbles down the flesh of his neck. Responding to her ministrations, he let out a low moan as her left hand began to pull open his robes, while her right hand squeezed forcefully below his belt.

About to tumble into the abyss, the sharp sting of shame and self-loathing pulled him back from the edge. What the fuck was he doing?

Resisting the urge to backhand Narcissa, he placed his hands on either side of her waist and urged her upwards. She rose willingly, though confusion was evident in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her face flushed, the edged of her nipples straining against the confines of her robes.

"They'll be plenty of time for that later," Harry assured, "But we have work to do now."

"What work?" she asked as he steered her over to the liquor cabinet, pulling a glass decanter of expensive Firewhiskey from the shelf. He poured a generous amount into a glass, before discreetly dropping three drops of Veritaserum into it. Replacing the vial in his bandolier, he turned and pressed the glass in Narcissa's hand.

"I don't want to drink this beggar's piss," she said, eyeing the glass distastefully.

Harry shook his head.

"You need it, though. You're still in shock, and I need you thinking clearly for what we need to do."

"Which is?"

Harry favored her with a malevolent smile.

"Making the people who hired that thief pay."

Matching his expression, she threw back the Firewhiskey in one gulp, letting out a deep, burning cough. As she did, a haze settled over her eyes, along with a drugged expression that looked wholly out of place upon her aristocratic features.

"Where is the key to the Lestrange vault?" Harry asked.

"Downstairs, beneath the drawing room floor. "

"What protections are inside the Lestrange vault?"

"I don't know," she admitted with a shrug, before tilting her head sideways. "Did you forget that you put the key down there?"

"No," Harry answered simply, bringing his wand upwards.

"_Imperio."_

Establishing mental control, Harry mentally commanded Narcissa to lead him to the drawing room, quickly. As commanded, she led him out of the room, taking him through the monument to pureblood splendor that the Malfoy Manor embodied.

Opening a pair of double doors on the first floor, she led him into the drawing room. Carelessly banishing aside furniture and desks, she peeled back the carpet in the middle of the room, revealing only hardwood. Kneeling upon the floor, she waved her hand over the floor, grasping something unseen. With a mighty pull backwards, a section of the floor pulled upwards, revealing a dark space below. Casually letting the trapdoor fall to the floor with a crash, she began to descend into the darkness.

Harry followed her down the tight spiral staircase, lit by sputtering torchlight. At the bottom was a small room, perhaps ten feet wide. Bookshelves lined the walls, loaded with ancient tomes and countless artifacts. Striding to one of the bookshelves, she withdrew a thick tome with bloodstained leather binding, and opened it.

The pages had been hollowed out, leaving a shallow depression, within which an iron key rested. She took the key, carelessly dropping the hollow book to the floor, and presented him the key. He thanked her, before telling her to go back upstairs and wait for him. As she complied, Harry stared at the room for a moment.

Countless years of Dark knowledge, perhaps the most vile collection in all of Britain, right before his eyes. How many artifacts in here had directly contributed to his world's swift descent into darkness? How many deaths had they caused?

Raising his wand, he knew he'd never know, but he certainly had the power to make sure this world never had to find out.

A column of liquid fire leapt from his wand. Through the small space it flew, coalescing into a large stag. Letting out a sulfurous breath, the Fiendfyre aberration charged the far shelf, committing it to flame. The heat baking off his skin, smoke beginning to cloud the air, Harry quickly turned and ascended the stairs, the sound of crackling flames echoing in his ears.

Returning to the drawing room, he commanded Narcissa to follow him. Like a faithful dog, she walked in his wake, oblivious to his newest Fiendfyre conjurations, which had begun their work of devouring the room.

Cutting a path to the front door, Harry continued to conjure fiendfyre apparitions, which gleefully took to their task of burning. Reaching the front door, he took one final look at the interior of the manor.

Fire had spread to every façade of the manor. The palatial entryway, stretching high above, was completely consumed by flames. The expensive rugs, furniture and tapestries had already been reduced to ash. Glass melted within its frames, while fire eagerly went to work on the very stone of the manor itself.

Good fucking riddance.

Letting out a hacking cough, Harry stepped out into the front yard, attempting to close the door behind him. The door was wrenched from his grasp, however, and blown open by a wave of heat. Shrugging, Harry led Narcissa away from the manor at a brisk pace. Fire trailed their path, setting blaze to the grass and shrubbery. The flightless peacocks squawked in terror, but could do nothing as the living flames consumed them whole, feather by feather.

Reaching back, he grasped Narcissa's arm tightly. As he did, a monumental crash hit his ears. Turning back, he saw the flames reaching to the heavens, spewing forth from the collapsed entryway of Malfoy Manor, heralding the destruction of one of the oldest homes in the Wizarding world.

Even if he failed, Voldemort would now never have the opportunity to burrow himself in Malfoy Manor, impenetrable to attack.

Wraiths of liquid fire bearing down upon them, Harry Apparated away, taking Narcissa with him.

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Author Notes;

Here it is, the third chapter. The next one covers the break-in at Gringotts, which will be his toughest challenge to date. It might be the longest chapter in this story, at around 12k words. We shall see. I want to try to get back into finishing the latest chapter of Sitra Ahra, so it might be a month or so until 'The Eighth Hour' surfaces.

Thanks to the lovely Princess Serine, and my new second beta, Liron-Aria, for their hard work on the chapter.

Any questions or comments shall receive replies. I really like feedback, as it serves to keep my muse interested.

DLP Thanks:  
shinysavage, xzkto, Solcry, Fiat Piscis, animekingmike, samkar, Celestin, typhoon, Jeram


	5. VIII: The Eighth Hour

The Unforgiving Minute

VIII: The Eighth Hour

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**18:00**

With barely a sound, Harry and Narcissa arrived at the Eastern Diagon Alley Apparation Point. Releasing his vise-like grip on her arm, Harry briskly strode forth, mentally commanding his companion to follow. Moving swiftly, he exited the small stone building.

Far from the smoking crater which had been his last glimpse of Diagon Alley, the famed wizard establishment was absolutely thriving. Large throngs of witches, wizards and children clogged the cobblestone streets. The excitement in the air was almost thick enough to slice through, and was clearly reflected on the near universal jubilation he saw etched upon each passing face.

"Do you think Harry can do it?"

"I tell ya, Diggory's going to win it all!"

"Potter's only fourteen! He has no chance against Krum!"

Harry caught bits and pieces of the excited chatter as he began to weave in and out of the pedestrian traffic. Scarlet and yellow banners stretched overhead from building to building, each one declaring support for one of the Hogwarts champions. The excitement of the Third Task was reaching its climaxe.

In the world Harry had come from, it had been the last truly happy day for Britain.

Across the street, Gringotts loomed large, dwarfing every other building in the alley. Wizards passing the banking establishment were thrown into shadow by the hulking marble behemoth. From the large, open bronze doors, all the way down the marble stairs snaked a long line of wizards, stretching down the street.

"Krum at 2-1 odds!"

A loud, seedy looking bookie, one of many, stalked up and down the line of prone wizards, looking for marks. Various other disreputable peddlers of shoddy goods and useless amulets took the opportunity to prey on the gridlocked wizards, including a short, bedraggled man that looked suspiciously like Mundungus Fletcher.

"Have you ever waited in line here?" Harry asked without slowing, leaning close to Narcissa's ear.

"No," she answered. "Lucius always went straight to I-Ironhide."

Fully expecting her answer, but not the slight hitch in her voice, Harry marched right past the line of waiting people, his head held high. Lips turned downwards as he passed, envy and dislike in equal proportions evident upon their faces. Along with the fact that the expensive robes he wore probably exceeded most of their yearly salaries, the very fact that they had to wait in line, while he didn't, must have been maddening.

Not that Harry cared. He had a Dark Lord to kill. They did not.

Approaching the steps leading up to the goblin bank, a short man in a large purple top hat stepped out of line, his finger outstretched.

"Are you too good to wait in line like the rest of us?" the man demanded in a squeaky voice, his finger shaking slightly.

Harry sent a stony glare at the diminutive Order member. Though without question a good man, Dedalus Diggle had little sense, and his skill with a wand was poor.

Not that any of that mattered at this moment.

Not quite liking the look in Harry's grey eyes, Diggle abruptly stepped back into line, so quickly it looked like he Apparated there.

Quickly ascending the steps, they made their way through the open silver inner doors. He gave the inscription on the door a single glance, smirking inwardly. He certainly hoped to find more than treasure.

The large interior of the bank, carved mostly from marble, was almost completely packed solid with people, every witch and wizard wearing similar expressions of impatience and annoyance. At the far end of the bank, where a counter ran the entire length of the rear wall, goblins sat upon their high stools, serving the masses of people with barely concealed contempt. Huge mountain trolls, fitted with thick armor, leaned against the walls, waiting for the opportunity to dish out pain on any unruly customers.

Narcissa's hand threaded through the crook of his arm as she led him towards the left side of the lobby.

"Our Account Manager, Ironhide, will tolerate us, but will not cooperate easily, and will respond negatively to sign of weakness."

Satisfied, Harry let out a curt nod before pushing through the second door on the left. The room beyond was a monument to the opulence the wealthier castes of goblins engaged in.

Mounted swords, axees and maces were displayed prominently upon the stone walls, their hilts gleaming with affixed jewels. A large tapestry, spun with what looked like gold thread, depicting a black hammer and a silver sword crossed over one another. All the furniture in the office was cherry, which shone with a carefully polished sheen. A large, mahogany door was set into the rear of the office.

At the large desk sat an enormously large, bald goblin dressed in a steel-grey suit. Scratching away with a quill on a sheaf of parchment, Ironhide stopped writing, not even bothering to acknowledge Harry or Narcissa.

Mentally ordering Narcissa to close the door behind them, he approached the desk before putting his hands on the smooth surface and leaning forward.

"I require a moment of your time."

"Then perhaps you should have made an appointment," Ironhide answered without looking up, his voice bored. "I do not have any moments to spare right now."

"Well," Harry drawled, attempting to do his best impression of Lucius, "perhaps then I should endeavor to find another Account Manger, one who actually makes time for his largest client."

"By all means, go right ahead," Ironhide replied in a bored tone, still yet to make eye contact. "However, you should probably go wait in line now, as the proper forms are at the front desk."

Setting down his quill, the goblin looked up. Its yellow eyes gleamed malevolently, clearly enjoying making Harry wait.

For a moment Harry's hand twitched, the urge to kill the goblin becoming strong. He was fully conscious of the fact that every passing second spent arguing with this wretched creature was another step toward failure.

Granted, it didn't help that he had little patience for the traitorous creatures, who, when they weren't squabbling with one another, were often on the brink of declaring war on the Wizarding world. He hoped whoever had decided goblins should control the Wizarding economy had died a long, painful death.

"Or, instead, you could just summon one of your underlings, and have them show us to our vault," Harry said in a flat, cool voice.

Ironhide's expression became far less malicious, his mouth contracting into a far more appraising glance.

"I suppose if I were rid of you, it would allow for me to finally finish up my own work. Icepick!"

After a few moments, a door at the back of the office opened, admitting a small goblin dressed in a red uniform adorned with brass buttons.

"Escort the Malfoys to their vault," Ironhide ordered dismissively, waving the hand holding his quill carelessly. For the barest of seconds, Harry thought he saw the goblin's eyes widen, but it happened so quickly it could have been his imagination. Setting his quill down, Ironhide opened his desk, and withdrew a leather bag which seemed to be full of jangling metal.

"Right away," Icepick answered in a gruff voice, taking the bag and turning towards the large door set into the back of the room.

Without acknowledging Ironhide, Harry and Narcissa followed the goblin through the doorway, which opened out into a small tunnel with smooth rock walls with shallow alcoves. Torches with bright yellow flames sat within, fully illuminating the tunnel, which led ever downwards at a shallow grade. Following it to the end, it cut into another, far larger tunnel with a railway placed in the center, with both ends of the tunnel stretching out into the darkness. Following a sharp whistle from Icepick, a cart sped down the tracks, stopping before them.

Without being prompted, Harry and Narcissa entered the cart, followed by the goblin. At once, like a bullet shot from a gun, they began hurtling down the labyrinth of twisting passages, the air growing progressively colder as they sloped steadily downward into the darkness beneath Gringotts. Despite every twist and turn, however, Harry's quick eye marked every bend, each dip, carefully cataloguing each.

To have any hope of escape, he needed to know the way out. If his plan went accordingly, there was a strong chance the goblins wouldn't be all that inclined to help him find the way back.

No words were exchanged as they descended deeper, swerving between stalactites glistening with moisture, passing by an underground lake. This was far deeper than the Potter vaults had been, perhaps near the Malfoy vaults-

All thought left Harry as the cart took a sharp turn, bringing them directly into the path of a waterfall. Before he could react, they zoomed through it, drenching him with not only water, but with the wash of magic. Without warning, the cart pitched violently, flinging the three passengers out it. Hearing the cart smash heavily against the wall, Harry quickly withdrew his wand, flinging a cushioning charm. His free-fall stopped immediately, allowing him to float to the ground weightlessly.

Feeling for the connection tying him to Narcissa's mind, he felt nothing. Quickly turning, he saw Narcissa look up. While her silk robes were sodden, and her long, soaked blonde hair clung to her body chaotically, clarity reigned in her eyes.

"You bastard!" she hissed, before moving towards her wand. Harry, however, was far quicker, ensnaring her with another Imperius Curse. Her eyes immediately lost focus, losing their ferocity. Without warning, Harry's senses flared, and instinct took over. He quickly stepped to the right, pivoting about the heel. Right where he had been, an arc of steel sliced through the air, the short arc of Icepick's dagger barely missing him. Firing off a second Imperius, Harry quickly dominated the goblin's mind.

"Take us to the Lestrange vaults, quickly," Harry ordered. At once, Icepick began to march forward into the darkness. Harry briskly followed, his eyes watchful, while Narcissa matched his speed.

Noting the decreased distance between his strides, it would appear that along with breaking his mental control, the enchanted waterfall had robbed him of his assumed disguise. Ironhide must have noticed something was off. For all he knew, a score of goblins could be on their way right now.

No matter. The Horcrux was near, and his curses were strong. No, the time for hiding and stealth was almost over.

Soon, it would be time to fight.

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_Blood mingled with desperate sweat ran down into his eyes, bringing a keen sting to his senses, while painting the world in a crimson spectrum. As he blinked involuntarily, a high-pitched, alien squeal rang out from his right flank. At full sprint, Harry leaned to his left, just in time to feel something narrowly miss his head and scrape down his back, mercilessly tearing through the flesh. _

"_Now!" Harry screamed, bringing the Elder Wand up in a high-arc. Unseen, a potent wave of magic erupted from his wand, striking the ceiling with the force of a bomb. The concussion from the blast lifted him off his feet for a second, before he hit the ground hard, stumbling forward. The heavy thud of collapsing stonework ringing in his ears, a large, heavy object struck him in the back. The blow sent Harry, already off balance, tumbling to the ground, face-first. His nose broke with a low crack as it collided with the unyielding stone. _

_He tried to scramble quickly to his feet, but a heavy, furry weight leapt down upon him, smashing him against the floor. _

"_Harry!" Wood screamed. A moment later, the weight was relieved, followed by a sharp click right above the back of his head. Turning over, he saw an acromantula's mandibles closed, mere inches from his face. Writhing, vibrant green vines crisscrossed its dark body, holding the magically resistant creature aloft. _

"_Get ready, Wood!" Sprout gasped, her voice shaking. At once, the reaper vines springing forth from her body reared back, before slinging the spider into wall. It hit the wall with a crunch, several of its legs bending backwards. Without hesitation, it scrambled to its feet, the remaining six legs scrambling against the floor. Its many crimson eyes shining brightly, it reared back, preparing for another charge. _

_From out of nowhere, a silver axe cut through the air with a low whistle, directly into the creature's thoraxe. Black ichor sprayed across the room as Wood withdrew the axe, sending loops and piles of the creature's innards splattering to the floor in a foul-smelling heap. _

"_Take this, ye whiny twat," Wood sneered, raising the axee again. Continuing to squeal, the acromantula tried to backpedal, but Wood swung the axe again, cleaving the creature roughly in two. _

"_Magic don't hurt 'em," Wood said, wiping the gore from his weapon, "but 'ere's still no stoppin' a silver axe. Ye okay, Harry?"_

_Getting shakily to his feet, Harry glanced behind him, at the heavy stone blocks sealing off the passageway. Black blood flowed out from beneath the collapsed ceiling, like an oil spill, while a cacophony of high-pitched squeals echoed from beneath the rubble. _

"_I'm fine," he answered dismissively, drawing in a deep breath to still his racing heart. "How about you, Pomona?"_

_Hands on her knees, her face an alarming shade of scarlet, she let out a barely perceptible nod in between pulls of fresh air. Green reaper vines languished on the ground behind her, looking nearly as deflated as their host. _

_Temporarily satisfied, Harry wiped a hand across his brow, clearing the grime from his eyes. Flicking his hand towards the ground, he rid himself of the droplets of blood and grey brain matter which clung to it. Both of which, up until a few minutes ago, had belonged to Millicent._

_Yet another poor soul who had sacrificed their life to his insane cause. _

"_We have to keep moving," Harry urged, "They might find a way around the cave-in."_

"_Fuckin' acromantulas," Wood snarled, leveling a kick at the lone spider which had made it past the ceiling collapse. Without further comment, he slung the axe back over his shoulder, and followed Harry down the hall. Winded, but moving, Sprout followed in their wake, still breathing heavily. _

_They walked in silence down the sixth-floor corridor, the light dimming as they progressed. Their footsteps left imprints upon the dusty stone floor as they walked, unsettling Harry. The rest of Hogwarts had been absolutely teeming with Death-Eaters and various Dark creatures, making their arrival at the sixth floor almost miraculous. _

_Why then, was this area of the former school deserted? _

_Turning a corner, the disrepair became even more evident. In the scant, dying torchlight, he saw that dirt and grime covered the floor, almost completely hiding the flagged stone beneath. Cobwebs completely covered the still portraits and suits of armor. _

"_What the fuck's that smell?" Wood demanded, glancing around irritably. _

_Inhaling deeply, Harry gagged on the vile stench of death. Bent over, hands upon his knees, he willed himself not to vomit._

"_Harry, you okay?" Wood asked._

_Not trusting himself to open his mouth without vomiting, Harry merely shook his head in response._

"_I can't see shit in 'ere," Wood complained, withdrawing his wand. "Lumos."_

_As bright light leapt forth, the pieces began to fall into place. Dark fabric stretched along sections of the hall and ceiling, blocking out all possible ambient light. _

"_It's a hive!" Sprout gasped, echoing Harry's thoughts. _

"_Bring it on, ye bloodsucking cunts," Wood roared, unslinging his silver axee from his back, the blade still wet with acromantula blood. _

_As if on cue, the doors on the left side of the hallway flew open, slamming against the walls with loud thuds. From the darkened rooms emerged pale, shambling humanoid figures with hollow eyes sunk deep into their heads. Misshapen, yellowed and rotting teeth gnashed together as they charged, letting out sub-human shrieks. _

_Young or old, man or female, it didn't matter. They were little more than cattle now, livestock, beyond all hope of redemption. The only thing he had to offer them was freedom. _

_Taking a deep breath, he jabbed the Elder Wand forward, launching a Piercer. No sooner had the spell left his wand, he brought it left across his body, launching a Cutter. From there, he moved his wand in a counter-clockwise circle, unleashing a Hurricane Banisher. _

_The piercing spell took the lead slave, an older man covered in freely bleeding fang punctures, in the forehead, detonating his head like a ripe berry. His cutting curse clove a young woman in half, just before his final spell threw both halves of her body into the oncoming mass of slaves. _

_With movements almost too quick to track, Harry unleashed chain after chain of spells, painting the stone corridor with broad, messy strokes of blood and brains. Ten, fifteen, twenty slaves all fell beneath his wand, restoring an eerie silence to the dilapidated hallway. _

"_If that doesn't rouse them, nothing will," Sprout said, her own wand held aloft, lighting the way. "We have to move fast."_

_The smell of blood, especially in such large quantities, was more than enough to wake a vampire. _

_Moving quickly, the three remaining members of the strike team raced down the hallway. Leaving blood and gore streaked footsteps in their wake they emerged out into the stairway leading up to the seventh floor. _

_Sprout took point, her arm raised, and the light from her wand illuminating their path. Dust and cobwebs stretched overhead, while the stone floor was sticky with dried, coagulated blood._

"_Fuckin' slobs, ain't they?" Wood asked quietly, more to himself than anyone else. Nodding his agreement, Harry scanned every inch of the inky darkness beyond the reach of Sprout's light with a judicious eye. Despite being day, with benefit of darkness, it was entirely possible that the slumbering vampires had placed more competent guards than their mindless livestock. _

_Reaching the landing between floors, a great unease began to pull at Harry's instincts. He froze in place, his primal instincts took over, heightening the acuteness of his senses. The darkness around him began to expand, take form, while sounds previously unheard began to make themselves known._

_The frantic pounding of Sprout's heart. The slight swish of air gliding across steel as Wood raised his axee, prepared for anything. And the slight rustle of fabric above him- _

_Whipping his wand upward, eyes closed, he launched a solar flare. Eyes dancing with yellow spots, he rolled to his side as an unholy screech filled his ears, sharp claws missing his neck by inches._

_Crimson eyes gleaming with malevolence, its pale skin marred with smoking burns, a dark-haired, younger male leapt towards him with cat-like grace. Harry quickly conjured a physical shield, which collapsed beneath a strike from its sharp claws. Knocked back, Harry hit the wall hard._

_In the blink of an eye, the vampire closed the short distance, its yellowed fangs bared. Right before it could strike, a green vine clamped around its neck, stopping it short. _

"_The wall!" Sprout shouted, before swinging herself around. Mercilessly, the reaper vines flung the struggling vampire into the wall. No sooner had it hit, Wood charged forward, burying the axee in the abomination's forehead. The silver battle axe split through its head like cordwood, roughly bisecting it in a rain of blood. The vampire's legs kicked out for a moment, before it fell still. Now dead, Sprout flung the body away from them, where it tumbled gracelessly down the steps. _

_Sprout tracked its progress with her wand light at the body rolled over a few times, coming to rest at the feet of heavy boots. With mounting unease, Harry watched as the light moved upwards, revealing a group of tall figures clothed head-to-toe in dark robes, no flesh left exposed. Only the crimson, burning eyes were visible._

"_Shit."_

"_It's time to fucking move!" Wood declared, turning to run up the stairs. Following him, Harry turned just in time to see another vampire drop from the ceiling. As quick a draw Harry was, it seemed he was moving in slow motion as the vampire tore Sprout's throat out with a single quick movement. _

_Sprout let out a gargled scream of agony, wrapping the reaper vines around the vampire, before pulling roughly in opposite directions, tearing it apart in a glut of blood. She angrily threw aside the two still-squirming pieces, before falling to her knees. Shaking her head as the green vines wilted to the ground, the life draining from them, she looked up at Harry and Wood._

"_Go," she choked out, raising her wand. _

_With a quick nod of thanks, Harry raced up the stairs._

"_Fuck!" Wood screamed, before following him up. Reaching the seventh floor landing, they began to sprint down the hallway, guided by the bright light emanating from the tip of Harry's wand. Sprout's dying screams echoing through the hall behind them, the stench of death and rot became even more potent. _

_Lining the halls, like grotesque works of art, hung bodies in various states of decay, contorted into unnatural positions. _

_Vaguely, Harry forced himself to sprint faster, choking down bile, wondering if this was what passed for art in the vampire world. _

"_Where the fuck is the gargoyle?" Wood roared, his eyes searching wildly for the entrance to the Headmaster's Office. _

"_Up ahead," Harry gasped, slowing to a stop._

"_There's nothing here!" Wood claimed, throwing a glance back into the darkness they had fled from. In the dying light, Harry saw them advancing with frightening speed, like silent sentinels of this new Hogwarts. Almost effortlessly, the distance began to close, shrinking to fifty feet. _

_Shaking his head, Harry flung a cleansing spell at an outcropping of wall. Aided by the power of the Elder Wand, years upon years of blood, dirt, grime and other things too revolting to identify vanished, leaving behind only the gargoyle. _

"_Whatchamacallit," Harry said quickly. With speed previously unseen, the gargoyle leapt to the side. Turning to the side, Harry went to cover Wood, but Wood was already on the move, pushing Harry through the entryway. _

"_You first," the former Quidditch Captain said grimly, before stepping through the doorway, axee held in front of him. _

_Before he could make it all the way through, however, Wood was jerked backwards harshly. The shaft of his axe, held horizontally, catching the sides of the doorway, was the only thing that saved him from being torn away completely. For a moment, he was suspended in air, a single claw wrapped around his leg, held high, before the rest of the vampires caught up._

_Like vultures upon carrion, they fell upon Oliver. Throwing back their hoods, they unleashed their fangs and tore into his lower body. Surging forward, Harry flung a solar flare, driving them temporarily backwards, hissing with pain. Freed, but bleeding like a sieve, Wood crashed back to the ground, his hands still wrapped around the axe handle._

"_Come on!" Harry screamed, wrapping his hands around the shaft of the axe, using it to pull Wood into the threshold. Feeling movement, he leaned back, to have a claw cut through the area his head had occupied. At once, the vampires grabbed Wood again, pulling him backwards. Wood's hands, no match for the inhuman strength of the vampires, began to lose their grip on the axe handle._

"_Don't you fucking quit on me!" Harry screamed, flinging another solar flare._

_Spitting blood, Wood shook his head, his eyes full of clarity._

"_I'm fucked, mate. Go give Riddle hell."_

_His heart heavy, Harry released his grip, saying a single word._

"_Close."_

_At once, the gargoyle sprang shut, cutting off both of Wood's hands. They, along with the axee they held, clanged to the floor for the final time, the severed appendages trailing roughly torn tissue and streams of blood onto the dusty floor. _

"_I'm so sorry, Oliver," Harry said quietly, giving one last glance to the remnants of one of his oldest friends from Hogwarts. His heart heavy, he turned away from the sight, and towards the future._

_One that, by all means, he would ensure would end with Riddle dead._

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Huge, the dragon rose above them, both rear legs shackled with heavy cuffs, which were linked to thick chains terminated in giant spikes driven into the rock ground. At Harry's presence, it fought against its confines, pale and flaky scales chafing against the metal shackles. Though its eyes were milky with cataracts and disuse, it still shook its head from side to side, its flexed, spiked wings, crashing against the confines of the rocky cavern.

"Get us past the dragon," Harry commanded, turning to the goblin.

"Right away," the goblin answered, reaching into the small leather bag Ironhide had given him. It withdrew a number of small, seemingly mismatched metal instruments. Beginning to shake them together, a loud, ringing noise rang out, similar to a hammer upon an anvil.

Advancing upon the dragon, shaking the metal instruments, the dragon began to backpedal. Drawing nearer, Harry noticed that the dragon was actually trembling, and saw that vicious scars crisscrossed its face.

Their passage clear, the odd group of three made their way past the dragon, down of the several corridors leading off of the main chamber. It ended in a wide, circular wooden door.

The Lestrange Vault.

At his command, the goblin pressed his palm to the door, causing it to melt away. Beyond lay a cavelike opening, completely filled with treasure.

Golden coins, goblets and idols shone everywhere, giving the appearance of a sea of liquid fire. Amidst the gold lay silver armor, precious gems and potions in jeweled flasks.

Giving his wand a wave, searching for the magical signature of protective wards, he detecting nothing, not even basic blood wards one would expect to see.

What was the wrinkle here?

Casually, he raised his wand, attempting to summon the Cup. He was almost relieved when the Cup didn't come sailing out of the vault. There were at least some protections in place.

Walking further into the vault, barely having taken a few steps, he heard a muffled thud, throwing the Lestrange vault into darkness. Spinning around, wand lit, he saw that the door had re-appeared, sealing them in. Harry immediately relaxeed. The goblin was still in here with him, and was only an order away from re-opening the door.

By wandlight, Harry stepped further into vault. His elbow brushed up against a stack of coins, sending them tumbling to the floor. With wide eyes, he saw as they seemed to split and multiply in mid-air, turning into an avalanche of gold. Covering his feet, he felt vast heat eating at the tops of his dragon-hide boots.

Layered curse-work, it appeared. The original object enchanted with the Gemino Curse, while all the duplicates were infused with Flagranate Curses. It the heat didn't kill, the expanding gold would still be around to crush any unsuspecting thieves.

Cursing to himself, Harry attempted to transfigure the gold into paper, but its shape remained static. He moved onto water, before trying ice, rock and wood, but all of his attempts failed.

"Shite," he swore, feeling time beginning to slip away. How was he going to get around this?

"Stay right where you are," Harry commanded to Narcissa and Icepick, before beginning to gingerly make his way further into the vault, weaving between the piles. Despite his careful steps, he nudged a chest plate forged from silver, causing it to multiply twenty-fold, burning away part of his robe.

Stopping, Harry took a deep, relaxeed breath. Think Harry, think!

The entire point of the trap was to make it difficult to move around. So, it wouldn't make sense to have the Cup on the floor, where one could make minimal contact with the gold. No, it would only make sense…

Raising the wand of his beam upwards, he shined it over the tops of the mountains of gold. High shelves were set into the walls, upon which perched yet more gold, as well as various other treasures. Sweeping the shelves with the light, he observed shields, goblin made helmets, and-

The Cup!

His heart racing frantically in his chest, he saw the small, twin-handled, golden cup.

Finally, he had found it!

For a moment, he appraised the high mountain of gold leading up to the cup, before shaking his head in amusement. Reaching into his cloak, he withdrew Lucius' shrunken broom, before restoring it for its normal size. Much better, all he needed-

His instincts screaming, he turned to see Narcissa surge forward, wand drawn.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Still gripping the broom, he leapt sideways, directly into a pile of gold, which immediately began to multiply around him, burning through his clothes. Ignoring the searing pain, he scrambled to his feet, summoning a flame whip and lashed out with it.

Narcissa, a curse upon her lips, barely had time to blink before the thin column of flame sliced through her wand arm like butter, separating it from her body. Letting out a scream of agony, her neatly cauterized arm fell upon a pile of glowing gold, which multiplied further upon contact, burying both her arms and her legs up to the knees.

Letting out a primal scream, her eyes burning with hatred, Narcissa ran headfirst into the pile of gold closest to Harry. Quickly, he conjured a physical shield as the wall fell forward as it multiplied, completely burying Narcissa. The golden tsunami's progress was halted by the shield, but Harry immediately began to pant with the effort of maintaining the spell, which did nothing to block out radiated heat.

Sweating profusely, Harry leaped upon the broom, the shield collapsing above him. Flying downward, he deftly scooped up the goblin with his wand arm, breaking the connection to the shield. At once, the shield disappeared, letting loose the dammed gold. With a curse, he pulled up sharply on the broom handle, moving upwards, avoiding the tumbling gold with milliseconds to spare. It crashed to the ground, multiplying yet again, causing the very air to shimmer.

Head swimming with heat, Harry flew up, neatly plucking Hufflepuff's Cup from the shelf. Ignoring the multiple copies which sprung from it, he flew back towards the vault door, which was now two-thirds covered.

"Open the door," Harry commanded to Icepick, stopping aside it. As the goblin, still under the Imperius, reached out his hand, Harry began to conjure water in mid-air, forming a floating pool, which he shaped into a flat disk. As he froze the mass of water, the door once again disappeared, sending an avalanche of gold tumbling out into the tunnel. Pushing the goblin off the broom, Harry shot through the small opening.

For a short moment, he saw twelve goblins surrounding the entrance, weapons at the ready. They disappeared from sight as Harry neatly dismounted the broom, ice-shield held in front of him, neatly deflecting the goblins' first volley of arrows and poison bolts. Swinging his other arm up, he lobbed Hufflepuff's Cup over the ice-shield like a grenade. Flinging a solar flare, he leaned around the ice-shield, ignoring the temporarily blinded goblins. Squinting with his left eye, he tracked the cup's trajectory, lining up the shot.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

The green light leapt from his wand, flying straight towards the Cup. Satisfied, he ducked back behind the shield, conjuring a physical shield. An explosion ripped through the cavern, shredding through his ice shield like paper. Rocks slammed into his shield like sledgehammers, knocking him backwards against the re-closed vault door.

Shaking his head, his vision obscured by thick dust, he waved his wand, vanishing the cloud of dust. To his right lay a goblin arm, roughly amputated at the elbow, still clutching a crossbow. Rocks, debris, and piles of rags, blood and guts covered the entire hallway. Nothing had been spared by the magical backlash of the destruction of Hufflepuff's Cup.

Voldemort's second Horcrux.

Ignoring the pain in his back, he picked up his fallen broom, mounting it. The Cup might be destroyed, but if he didn't get out of Gringotts now, it would all still be for nothing. Kicking off from the ground, he raced forward, towards the sounds of falling water, Gobbledegook shouts, and roaring dragon fire.

The time to fight had come.

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Air pulled at his hair and robes as he sped down the tunnel, towards the sound of water. Up ahead, reflecting the scant ambient light, water cascaded from a fissure in the ceiling, stretching across the entire tunnel.

Quickly abandoning any plans to disillusion himself, he thrust his wand forward, launching forth a blast of superheated air, followed by a Hurricane Banisher. The water immediately turned to steam, before being blown away from him, into the main cavern.

Bursting out through the mouth of the tunnel, under cover of steam, his hard green eyes surveyed the scene, quickly identifying and analyzing the situation.

Six goblins hurried around the tethered dragon in the center of the room, each with Clankers held in hand. Around the cavern's perimeter stood twenty goblins, each at the ready with crossbows in hand. The far end of the cavern, which held his escape route, had been barred by a large, tall gate. It stretched across the entire tunnel, completely blocking off the exit.

So be it.

His wand a blur of motion, Harry snapped off three successive Cutters. Raising a physical shield, he cut sharply to the right as two of the curses struck home, roughly decapitating two of the goblins. His presence revealed, his shield bore a volley of arrows and bolts, before he quickly dropped it. Flinging his wand downward, he drove a Conjunctivitis Curse directly into one of the dragon's eyes.

Enraged, the dragon opened its mouth to fry Harry, but multiple shakes of the Clankers made it reconsider.

Re-applying the physical shield, he dove down, close to the dragon. Turning, it swung out with its horned tail. Harry pulled up sharply on the broom, rising over the spiky appendage. Missing him, it struck one of the perimeter goblins, splattering it into the wall.

Shutting his eyes for a fraction of a second, he snapped off a solar flare, before cutting rapidly to the left, around the dragon. The goblins temporarily blinded, Harry snapped off a Reductor at the gate, dead center. The scarlet spell flew directly between the two trolls, hitting one of the bronze crosspieces. It struck with a hollow gong, before flying back at Harry. Cursing, Harry dipped low, right into the path of one of the trolls. Roaring, it took a swing with its club.

Rolling to his right, he ducked under the swing, snapping off a blasting curse. The spell took the troll in the mouth, detonating its head in a spray of blood, bone and brains. Cutting to the left, he conjured another physical shield. Though their aim was bad, one of the projectiles struck his shield. Instead of merely bouncing off the shield, the object burst upon contact, spraying Harry with foul smelling ooze.

At once, the dragon spun around. Heedless to its handlers, it let out a single roar, before belching forth a column of flames. Coaxeing a burst of speed from his broom, he rocketed out of the way, the flames consuming an unlucky goblin, melting through its battle armor like butter.

Spitting the ooze out of his mouth, Harry pulled upwards on his broom. Quickly, he rose, avoiding another breath of dragon's flame. Dropping the shield, he cut roughly to the right, flying counter-clockwise around the cavern. His moving quickly, he rained death down upon the perimeter goblins.

He flew faster than the goblins' shots could ever hope to hit. Helpless, they fell beneath his wand, one by one. Skulls split, heads rolled, limbs and appendages fell like rain.

Finishing his bombing run, he once again dove close to the dragon. As he did, the remaining troll charged, club raised. Once again rocketing upwards, the dragon's horned tail struck the troll in the midsection, impaling it. It thrashed around for a moment, beating at the tail with its club, before a sharp flick of the tail sent the troll flying into the wall.

Downing one of the final remaining goblins with a Cutter, Harry flew in front of the gate, his muscles coiled. Turning, straining against the shackled that held it down, the dragon belched out another wave of fire. Pulling upwards sharply on the broom, he soared over the flames, before whipping the broom around, facing the gate.

The column of liquid fire melted through the bronze gate with ease, creating a large hole in it. Wasting no time, Harry accelerated through the opening, the angry yells of the few surviving goblins in his ears. He took the first turn at high speed, leaning his entire body to the right. The effects of gravity pulled mercilessly at him, but he held on, before decelerating.

Holding his wand in front of him, he cast a powerful illumination spell, banishing the shadows of the darkened cavern, revealing the smooth, stone walls. If there was another attack team, they'd see the light, but the goblins were a secondary concern.

Time was of far greater importance.

Mirroring his descent down to the Lestrange vault, he followed the cart tracks back in the direction he had come from, his path leading continually upwards. His eyes stayed watchful, ever mindful that every oncoming corner could hold the next ambush.

Without warning, Harry heard an almighty crash echo through the caverns, shaking the walls.

"What in the bloody hell was that?" he wondered to himself, picking up his pace slightly. Had part of the tunnel caved in?

He strained his ears, for a moment only hearing the steady drip of water, before another large crash shook the walls. It was far closer this time, and clearly coming from the direction he had came from.

Harry took a sharp left through a smaller opening, which opened out into a larger tunnel. The rock walls were wet with moisture, while puddles of water scattered the floor. Halfway up the tunnel, he heard another crash, directly behind him the tunnel he had exited, followed directly by a huge, angry roar. Tearing his eyes away from the iron tracks leading up the steep grade, he whipped his head around, shining his light back into the darkness.

Filling the mouth of the tunnel, like a horror from the depths of the darkest nightmare, hovered the dragon. Milky eyes rolled in its head at it let out a monstrous roar, its body wedged tightly between the stone walls. Driving forward, it began to shoulder its way through the stone, shearing off the sides of the opening.

Shite.

Turning back towards the path, Harry increased his speed. Outcroppings of rock appeared out of the darkness, each threatening to knock him off the broom, but he continued on. The dragon was faster than him, and he needed to put distance between them before it forced itself completely through the tunnel opening.

Forcing more speed from the broom, he sped up, shooting out of the tunnel. It opened out into a huge cavern, which housed a large lake, glowing with a green bioluminescence. By the light, he saw that the tracks hugged the left wall before rising upwards, out of sight. Large stalactites, some of them over a hundred feet in length, hung from the ceiling.

If he was going to make a stand, it would have to be here.

The rudimentary pieces of a plan falling into place, he saw the dragon emerge from the tunnel. Cuts and abrasions lined its thick, scaly hide, but it clearly had no intention of stopping until it had caught Harry. Opening its mouth, it spewed fire in his direction, which Harry easily avoided by flying upwards, the flames passing harmlessly beneath him. Pointing his broom up, he rocketed up towards the tips of the stalactites.

Letting out a roar of frustration, the dragon followed, flying straight through one of the stalactite tips, breaking it off. Steadily rising as he flew, Harry cut his broom to the left, avoiding another torrent of flames. The crash of the dragon breaking through the barriers in its way ringing in his ear, Harry continued to rise deeper into the maze of stone. The diameter of the spikes had increased vastly as he approached their point of origin. Harry skirted around a large stalactite fifteen feet in diameter, the stone completely blocking a torrent of fire from the dragon.

Risking a quick glance back, he saw that as he rose, the dragon was having trouble matching his speed, the large barriers slowing its progress down too much. Frustrated, it flew down slightly, head upturned, trying to flush him out with gusts of fire. Shielded by the stone, none of the strikes came even close to hitting.

With the opposite side of the cavern rapidly approaching, Harry abruptly swung his broom around. Gravity tore at him for a moment, but he held fast, coming to rest facing the opposite direction.

The dragon, incapable of such high-speed turns, crashed headfirst into the rock wall with an almighty crash, spraying broken and dislodged stone splashing into the lake below. Speeding in the opposite direction, Harry flew down from the protective cover of the stalactites and flew back in the direction he had come from. A jagged path of broken stalactites marked the dragon's progress overhead.

Reaching the opposite side, Harry did another turn. He saw that the dragon, after shaking its head slightly, had let out a roar that conveyed obvious anger and frustration, before taking flight, right towards him. Raising his wand, Harry began to focus his energy at a badly damaged stalactite. Focusing all his attention on it, he began to pull with everything he had. It resisted at first, but he felt its roots began to give way, dislodging the giant stone spike.

Tracking the speeding dragon's frenzied progress with his eyes, calculating the distance, he held the spike in mid-air for a moment, before whipping his wand down. Staring into the gaping maw of the approaching dragon, he held his ground as it inhaled, preparing to burn him to a crisp. Concentrating on its prey, the dragon never even looked up as the giant wedge of stone fell onto its back.

The torrent of flame, meant to kill Harry, passed harmlessly beneath him as the dragon was driven into the lake, throwing up a tidal wave of water. Quickly whipping his wand down, Harry launched a bolt of lightning at the mostly-submerged dragon's exposed back.

The dragon let out an agonized shriek as the bolt struck true, discharging into the mineralized water with a bright flash. Smoking slightly, the dragon thrashed in the water, its milky eyes liquefying in its sockets, gallons of blood beginning to seep from its mouth, ears and eye sockets.

Harry watched dispassionately for a moment as the dragon began to squeal, backpedaling in the water, trying to put as much difference between itself and the human as it could.

"Sorry," he said, "but it was me or you."

Leaving the dying dragon, he sped off towards the cavern's exit, resuming the path towards the surface.

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_With heavy footsteps, Harry made his way up the familiar spiral staircase. The wall torches had long ago fallen dark, with only the light from his outstretched wand illuminating the stone walls and floor. Thick layers of dust coated every service, his boots leaving deep impressions as he ascended the stairs. _

_As expected, he was the first one to set foot in the Headmaster's Office since Headmistress McGonagall had sealed it shut. _

_Reaching the top of the stairs, he could only stare in wonder at the circular office. Dumbledore's instruments, which had once been a continual source of noise and movement, were completely gone, as was Fawkes' perch. All of the portraits, scarcely lit by sputtering torchlight, were caked in dust so thick the faces were barely identifiable. _

_Flicking the Elder Wand a single time, he vanished all of the dust, before re-igniting the dying torches. At once, several voices came to life, the former Headmasters of Hogwarts awoken from their slumber. However, he had only eyes for the portrait placed directly behind the large desk._

"_Why, hello there, Harry," Albus Dumbledore greeted, a kind smile upon his face, his half-moon glasses pushed halfway down his nose. _

_Harry's hardened exterior, forged by the fires of war, cracked slightly at those simple, well-intentioned words. How long had it been since he had seen a face infused with genuine kindness?_

"_Good evening to you, Professor."_

"_It is that late already? Well, in that case, good evening to you as well, Harry. It is a total pleasure to once again have the opportunity to engage someone in discussion. Well, a living person, that is. Truth be told, I had begun to suspect that my former office would remain forever sealed, but…" Dumbledore shook his head, a slight twinkle in his eyes. "Look at me, blathering on and on without any regard for our guest of honor. How are you doing, Harry?" _

_Trying to find the best way to answer the question, Harry glanced around the office, noting that while a few of the portraits were occupied by elderly witches and wizards slumbering in their frames, most of them held empty patches of canvas. _

"_How much do you know of what's going on outside these walls?"_

"_News had been…scarce," Dumbledore admitted, the twinkle in his eye fading. "A month after letting loose the mortal coil, Minerva informed me that the Ministry had fallen. Before Voldemort stormed Hogwarts, she transferred the title of Headmaster over to you, before sealing the office for good. Information after that was hard to come by, but my assumption would be that Voldemort, displeased with his lack of access to the Headmaster's Office, set about the world, destroying every portrait he could find of former Headmasters of Hogwarts. The few that remain, myself included, are cut off from the rest of the world."_

"_Then you're one of the lucky ones," Harry snapped back bitterly, his expression hardening. "If you could only see what's happened to our world…"_

_Dumbledore's face sagged at Harry's words, his visage becoming sorrowful. _

"_I am deeply sorry that you have had to shoulder such an unfair burden, Harry. If there was any way I could have spared you of it, or prevented it, I would have gladly done so."_

_For a moment, Harry saw red, and all he wanted to do was rage at the former Headmaster. All his regrets for his wasted years at the Dursleys, his lack of preparation for the horrors of war, it all came floating to the surface from deep within the recesses of his mind. Shaking his head, he sighed deeply, pushing his grudge back down._

"_You failed to prepare me," Harry accused, his voice flat, deflated. "I thought you were going to show me how to fight this war, but instead you were betrayed by that fucking greaseball Death Eater. But you know what?" Harry asked, his voice shaking slightly. "I don't even know how much difference it would have made. When the Ministry fell, it happened so quickly that even if we were prepared, we still couldn't have handled it. One year after your death, Britain had already been mostly destroyed, the Statue of Secrecy was in tatters and Voldemort was pressing outward across Europe."_

_Dumbledore's vibrant blue eyes closed for a moment, before re-opening, regret clearly reflected in them. _

"_Harry, you can't imagine how saddened I am that you were forced to bear witness to my death. Sadly, there was no other way-"_

"_No other way?" Harry snapped angrily. "How about immediately throwing the Death Eater that sold out my parents in Azkaban, instead of hiring him? Good thing I killed him that night you died. Imagine how many other people could have repeated your mistake!"_

"_Severus was working under my orders," Dumbledore replied, his expression somber._

_The moment the words left his lips, time seemed to stop. Uncomprehending, Harry stared at the former Headmaster, an expression of deep skepticism upon his face._

"_You asked Snape to kill you?" Harry asked in a calm, doubtful voice. _

_Dumbledore lifted up his right arm, displaying his blackened, charred hand. Slytherin's ring was still wrapped around one of the ruined fingers._

"_Harry," he began sadly, opening and closing his hand. "Though I knew better, I tried to use this ring, and a horrible toll it took. It was only through Severus' intervention that I was spared an immediate, painful death. Due to his efforts, I was given at least some time. Had Severus not struck me down, I would not have lived to see another month."_

_Silence followed Dumbledore's revelation. Everything that Harry thought he knew about Snape, the man he hated above all others, even Voldemort, was wrong. _

"_Please understand," Dumbledore pleaded, breaking the silence. "Upon my death, it was only a matter of time until Voldemort seized the Ministry. For my death to have any purpose, it needed to look like murder. Having defeated me, Severus would have been honored far beyond any other Death Eater, and would be granted any position he asked. Upon asking for the Headmaster's position, he would have been granted it immediately, allowing him to keep the remaining students safe, and provide a key role in subverting Voldemort's reign by helping you in the search for the Horcruxes." _

"_I…I don't believe it," Harry said uncomprehendingly, after a minute's silence. "That was your plan?"_

_Dumbledore gave a slight nod in response._

"_How I wished there would have been time to prepare you, but time was too short. The best I could do was give you all the information I had gathered regarding the Horcruxes, and hope that with the support of your faithful companions, and Severus' help, you would have been able to destroy all the pieces of Voldemort's soul."_

"_A lot of good that did!" Harry exclaimed, livid. "I found each and every one of those fucking trinkets. Those four fragments cost us the Order, most of my friends, but we did like you wanted, found and destroyed them all. Guess what, though? It didn't fucking matter! I cut that snake bastard in half, blew his fucking brains out, and he lived through it!"_

"_You were one Horcrux shy," Dumbledore answered, his eyes sorrowful. _

"_How?" Harry demanded angrily, sticking out his fingers. "Cup!" he exclaimed, ticking off one of his fingers. "Locket. Snake. Something of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. You told me, right here in this room, that those were the four I needed to find. Looks like I can still count, so what the fuck is going on?"_

_Dumbledore bore his anger patiently._

"_The night of your parents' murder, Voldemort accidentally created a Horcrux," the former Headmaster explained, "One that even he was unaware of."_

"_And it didn't occur to you to know what it was?"_

"_It was Severus' duty to tell you, when the time was right. The truth is a difficult matter, and would have been nearly impossible for you to handle."_

_Harry, seriously considering blasting Dumbledore's portrait to pieces, settled for a deep breath._

"_I think I can handle it now, so it would be an excellent time to spill the beans," Harry said through gritted teeth. _

"_Harry, have you ever wondered exactly why you had access to Voldemort's mind?"_

"_Not lately," Harry snapped back, impatiently. "It's a curse scar! I've lived with it my entire life…"_

_Harry trailed off, his eyes widening as comprehension descended._

"_No fucking way!" he breathed. Slowly, he moved his fingers up to his forehead, tracing over the familiar scar. The truth bearing down on him, he began to whisper the words that had haunted his entire life._

"_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…"_

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Without further incident, he made his way through the twisting tunnels and caverns of stone, arriving at the main lobby.

In sharp contrast to the chaos beneath Gringotts, the main lobby was eerily silent. Harry's left hand wrapped around the shaft his broom, his right held upright, wand pointed forward. He flew low to the ground, crossing the formerly crowded marble floors, his gaze watchful.

In the event of a break-in, it seemed reasonable that the goblins would evacuate Gringotts of all clientele, but where was the goblins' last line of defense? Notoriously vindictive by nature, goblins would, in general, rather exhaust every possible resource, no matter the cost, than allow a thief to escape Gringotts.

Apprehensively, he passed by a wide, marble column, stopping in front of the exit. Large stone archways curved over the exit, overlooking the gates of Gringotts. The thick, wide bronze doors were shut tightly, their surface completely smooth. No lock, no jamb, no handle, no obvious way to open them.

As expected.

Waving his wand, he attempted to transfigure the bronze doors into a weaker metal, but his effects were for naught. Goblin metallurgy, especially of electrically conductive materials, was notoriously impervious to transfiguration. Half-heartedly, he snapped off a blasting curse, which merely glanced off the thick doors with a low gong, without making a dent.

"Shite," he swore under his breath, raising his wand high. Gathering magic at its tip, preparing to unleash a bolt of lightning, he sensed movement to his right, and he instinctively leaned to his left.

A mighty shriek, which cut through his ears like broken glass, rang out as a something clipped his left hip and striking the tail of him broom. The impact snapped the broom in two, knocking Harry to the marble floor, where he tumbled for a moment. With his hip singing with pain, he whipped his head around.

Turning wide from its first strike, a huge, dark form turned, facing Harry. Eight feet long, his first impression was of a giant goat. Long, sharp horns sprouted from either side of its almost triangular head, stretching out a foot. Yellow, piercing eyes, shining with primal intelligence regarded him from between tufts of black fur. The head was attached to a muscular lower body, which would have looked more at home on a lion, if not for the coarse, black hair which covered it, and the long, sharp claws which tipped its feet. Where its tail should have been, stretched a black-scaled snake ten feet long, which writhed constantly, though kept its gaze and long fangs locked upon him.

"A fucking chimera?" Harry hissed, unbelievingly. As if to answer, the chimera let out another screech, before charging forward, closing the distance quickly. At once, Harry jabbed his wand forward.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

With deft agility, the chimera leapt aside, the green light passing harmlessly by it. As it passed, the snake swung out, aiming for his legs. Harry leapt over it, launching a solar flare as he landed. The bright flash drove the creature back for a moment, eliciting an angry shriek. Backpedaling quickly, towards the rear of the lobby, Harry began to conjure a length of steel chain.

As its pupils returned to normal size, the chimera charged again, paws thudding against the marble tile. With the length fully conjured, Harry banished the chain at the creature's legs. Launching itself forward, the chimera leaped over the chain, unsheathing its razor-sharp claws midair. Harry immediately threw himself to the ground, the claws just barely missing him as the chimera flew over him, crashing into the wooden counter.

Whipping his wand forward, he launched a blasting curse at the wooden counter, before conjuring a physical shield as he backpedaled. The middle section of the counter detonated in a rain of splinters, which bounced harmlessly off Harry's shield. Dropping the shield, he saw the chimera emerge from the wooden wreckage. Though its hide was peppered with large wooden splinters, each drawing trace amounts of dark fluids, it seemed to suffer no ill effect as it let out another shriek, preparing to charge.

With a wave of his wand, Harry transfigured the section of marble floor in front of him to ice. The charging chimera lost all traction upon contact, its legs flying out to the sides as it hit the floor hard. Sidestepping the skidding creature, Harry brought his wand down in a high arc, launching a Dark Cutter.

Though its head faced the opposite direction, the tail had turned as it skidded, keeping a careful eye on Harry. As soon as the curse left his wand, the chimera dug the claws of its left paw into the ground, roughly spinning the creature around to its left. The Dark Cutter, aimed for the head, instead struck the creature's turning flank, gouging into the rough hide in a spray of dark blood.

Undeterred, Harry jabbed his wand forward, firing off another killing curse. The snake tracked the spell with its eyes for the briefest of moments, before the chimera rolled to the right, the spell impacting harmlessly against the ground in a spray of marble chips.

As the chimera clambered to its feet, Harry cursed under his breath. Not only was it generally too quick to avoid his spells, but the mind of the snake and the goat seemed to be connected, essentially giving the chimera panoramic attack perception.

For a moment, the chimera stood, facing him. Yellow eyes met green ones for the briefest of seconds, and despite the dark blood dripping from its flank, and the splinters sticking into its flesh, he saw no pain. Instead, he saw only primal, almost calculating intelligence. With infinite patience, it began to move forward slowly, almost in a stalking manner.

"Come on, you twat," Harry urged, waiting for it to charge, but its pace remained constant.

The distance closed to twenty feet, Harry whipped out his wand, shooting forth a wide column of dark flames. No sooner had the flames escaped his wand, the chimera charged, right through the wall of black fire. It emerged from the flames unhurt, head lowered as it charged. Harry darted to the side, the sharp horns grazing past his right thigh, ripping through his skin in a crimson mist.

As the chimera passed by him, Harry brought up his wand, only to have the snake dart forward, jaws clamping down on his hand. Pain exploded through his skin as the sharp fanged penetrated his flesh, pumping poison into his system. With a scream of agony, Harry reached out with his non-wand hand, jamming his thumb and forefinger into the snake's eyes. The snake immediately left go of his wand-hand, rearing back, hissing in agony.

Beginning to turn, he briefly saw the lowered goat's head before one of the horns ripped through his stomach, impaling him. For a brief moment he was lifted up, in agony, before he brought his wand down, launching a point-blank blasting curse. Apparently sensing the curse, the chimera tried to shift out of the way, but only succeeded in moving its head slightly.

Instead of striking its forehead, the curse struck the left side of the snout, blowing off the left side of its face in a mist of black blood, gore and bone shards. The creature let out an enraged shriek of pain as one of the bone shards lodged itself into the left eye, puncturing the yellow orb. Three-quarters blind, the chimera shook his head violently. The horn slid from Harry's midsection in a torrent of crimson blood as he was unceremoniously tossed. He back impacted painfully against one of the wide marble columns as he hit the ground.

Ignoring the wounds to his hand and stomach, not to mention the heaviness of his eyelids, Harry took aim with his wand, holding onto it only be force of will, launching another solar flare.

The still squealing chimera, with its blind, snake tail thrashing wildly in mid-air, shut its one remaining eye against the flash, retreating backwards. Seizing the opportunity, Harry jabbed his wand forward.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Blinded, the chimera still nonetheless leapt to the side, barely avoiding the green killing curse. Hitting the ground, it immediately charged forward again. Seeing the blind, thrashing snake flail in the air, inspiration struck. Quickly, he focused upon the snake, while conjuring another length of chain.

"_Stop, I command you!"_

As opposed to words, Parseltongue hisses emitted from his mouth, causing the chimera to draw short, its single remaining eye widening.

Seizing his opportunity, he animated the chain. The thick chain swung out, wrapping around the creature's torso. Before the chimera could reach him, the chain yanked backwards, pulling the creature with it. Realizing it had been fooled, the chimera began to thrash, but before it could free itself, it was slammed into the marble column. The chain immediately wrapped tighter, trussing the chimera against the column, in an upright position. It tried to thrash, but the chain only tightened further, actually cutting into its hide.

The chimera was trapped.

Breathing heavily, seeing black spots in front of his eyes, Harry dropped his wand, the cylinder of wood slipping from his slack fingers. His sight becoming dark, leaving behind only pain, he tore at the heavy, blood drenched robes, pulling them open. Fingers shaking, he grabbed the large, globe-shaped vial from its left bottom-most position on the bandolier. Only able to use one hand, he brought the glass down upon the marble floor, smashing it. Heedless to the shards of glass entering his fist, he picked the small, brown object from the floor. Giving the stone-shaped object a single shake to dislodge any glass which clung to it, he jammed it into his mouth, swallowing it whole.

Slumping gracelessly to the ground, Harry's body began to spasm violently as the bezoar began to work its magic. Pain moved to every inch of his body as the bezoar's magic raced through his bloodstream, dissolving every drop of the chimera's poison. Sweating violently, his head swimming, an insurmountable wave of nausea swept over him. He immediately began vomit violently, purging the final traces of poison from his system.

Upon finishing, he slowly got his feet, the frenzied shrieks of the chimera ringing in his ears. Cupping his left hand against the wound on his stomach, he gave the wildly thrashing creature one final glance, before raising his wand, all while backing away from the creature.. Moving it in a counter-clockwise motion around the front, he drew it back three-quarters of the way through the circle, before jabbing it forward.

A large, blue mass of magic leapt from his wand, streaking through the air. The creature's yellow eye widened, but rendered immobile, it had no where to go. For a split second, the spell melted through the chimera's upper body like butter, before contacting the marble column.

It exploded with the force of a bomb, shaking the floors. Only Harry's quickly conjured physical shield save him from damage, rendering the marble shrapnel harmless. Marble and body parts fell like rain, covering the floor with dust and gore. Continuing to walk backwards, towards the bronze doors, he watched as the large column, missing its bottom third, began to collapse.

In a matter of seconds, large cracks spider-webbed across the remainder of the column, before falling completely to pieces. It broke apart further as it fell, the pieces hitting the floor hard enough to shake the floor violently.

With one of the supports missing, the ceiling began to cave rapidly. Large chunks of marble, easily bigger than the chimera, fell through the air, slamming into the floor. Each impact shook the very foundation of Gringotts itself, nearly knocking Harry off his feet. Reaching the bronze doors, he flattened himself against them, raising his strongest physical shield.

Before his eyes, the damage to the ceiling began to domino. More and more blue sky revealed itself as the destruction spread outward.

"Come on!" Harry screamed, his eyes wide. They couldn't last much longer-

With relief, he saw the Anti-Apparation wards discharge in a bright flash of light, the controlling runes carved into the tops of the marble columns destroyed by the destruction. Giving one last glimpse at the destruction of the Wizarding world's bank, Harry Apparated away from the caved-in building.

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Author Notes:

Here it is, at long last, the elusive fourth chapter. I've had the full scope the Gringotts break-in planned out for a while, but finding the time necessary to write out the full version took some time. The next chapter looms largely in my mind, so I think I'm going to try to force it out quickly before I go back to Sitra Ahra. I might be able to have it done within three weeks. As always, work responsibilities may delay it.

Just to clarify, in the future timeline, Harry had no idea where the Cup was. It was only after years and years of searching that he found it, buried deep beneath the Fens, in an underground cathedral of Voldemort's design. Following the loss of his first few horcruxes, Voldemort put far more effort into hiding his remaining ones, removing the Cup from the Lestrange vault.

Thanks to Princess Serine and Liron-Aria for their hard work on this chapter.

Thanks to DLP member, yak, for going back through the previous chapters and catching a great deal of mistakes I made. I've since gone back and edited all the chapters. The amount of dumb errors I had were, quite frankly, embarrassing.

Any comments or questions shall receive a reply. I very much enjoy feedback, and it's really the only thing that brings me back to my computer after one of my very frequent thirteen hour work-days, and dash out a few hundred words as opposed to just relaxing.

DLP Thanks:

yak, blazzano, shinysavage, Inert, animekingmike, Swindraconian, Republic21, ZerotheDestroyer


	6. IX: The Ninth Hour

The Unforgiving Minute

IX: The Ninth Hour

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**19:00**

White clouds of marble dust flew up from his robes as Harry collapsed upon the thin, threadbare carpet, landing face down, his hand pressed to the bleeding hole in his midsection. Thick dust, the acclimation of years of disuse, immediately went up his nose, triggering his sinuses. He began to cough violently, the spasms causing pain to rip through his injured stomach. Blood began to seep out from between his fingers, staining the thin carpet.

He started to pull away his hand, before shaking his head roughly, clearing the worst of the cobwebs from his mind. If he pulled his fingers away, his innards might begin to un-spool.

Rolling onto his back, he withdrew his free arm from Lucius' robes. Switching hands, he shrugged off the expensive robes, revealing both the potions bandolier, and his blood-drenched undergarments. Carefully, he began to reach towards the bandolier, but a wave of light-headedness washed over him, carrying away his thoughts.

As Harry Potter had done his entire life, he fought against it, but unconsciousness was too strong an enemy to fight. As his hand flopped to the ground, he unwillingly slipped beneath waves of grey, fading into oblivion.

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_In a flash of green flames, Harry arrived within the fireplace at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Shaking loose the ashes which clung to his cloak, he stepped off the hearth, his eyes distant. _

"_Harry!"_

_At once, Ginny was rushing towards him, arms outstretched. Harry received the embrace as warmly as he could, wrapping his arms tightly around her, breathing deep into her ginger trusses. Buried beneath the obvious stench of blood, sweat and worry, was her unique musk, which most closely resembled cinnamon._

"_I'm here, Gin," he assured, rubbing circles on her back as she clung to him. _

"_I thought you were gone," she admitted into his chest, muffling her words slightly. _

"_We all did," Hermione added, standing beside the couple. _

"_Did anyone else make it?" Zacharias asked._

_Harry shook his head in negation. _

"_No, luck is the only thing that got me out of there."_

"_Did you find Dumbledore's portrait?" the blond man asked earnestly._

_Ginny lifted her head from Harry's chest, sending a glare towards Zacharias._

"_He just got back, Smith! Why don't you give it a rest for a minute?"_

"_Fine," Smith said with a dismissive shrug. "Good to see you made it back, Harry," he said, before turning to walk away._

"_Wait," Harry implored, raising his hand. "As much as I'd like to wait, there's some things that need to be said, right now. Gather everyone that can make it, and have them meet me in the dining room, in fifteen minutes."_

"_Everyone that can make it!" Zacharias demanded, his detached demeanor crumbling. "We're all that's left!"_

_There was more to say, but catching Smith's eyes, Hermione shook her head a single time. Zacharias blew out a breath of frustrated air, before turning and storming away from the room._

_Hermione silently watched Zacharias leave the room, before turning to Harry, putting a hand on his shoulder. _

"_This…is all hard…for us – for him," she said, defending the former Hufflepuff. "We are glad to have you back, though."_

_She sent a forced smile in his direction, before walking from the room, closing the door behind her._

"_How bad is it?" Ginny asked, moving her hands down to clasp Harry's. Her warm, brown eyes, yet to be completely sapped by the horrors of war, were wide with worry, correctly interpreting his demeanor. "Was it all for nothing?"_

"_No, it was worse," Harry admitted shakily. "Ginny…we can't win this war."_

_Her expression froze at his words, her eyes widening._

"_No – no, I don't believe that," she said, shaking her head furiously. "Dumbledore he – there must have been something he never had the chance to tell you."_

"_Oh, there was," Harry agreed angrily, "but it doesn't do us much good now. We had our chance to take down Voldemort, but we lost it."_

"_You beat him once," she shot back. "You can beat him again." _

_Harry shook his head._

"_Ginny, I…there's still one more horcrux."_

"_How?" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "A soul split into seven pieces, that's what Dumbledore said. Why would he lie about that?"_

_Harry shook his head._

"_Dumbledore never lies, he just speaks with a politician's tongue. Voldemort only made six horcruxes. There was one, however, that was created accidentally, that even Voldemort never knew about."_

"_How?" Ginny demanded, her gaze fiery. "Dark magic that vile just doesn't happen, Harry!"_

_Reaching out, Harry took hold of Ginny's hand, before staring deep into her eyes._

"_People aren't supposed to survive the killing curse either, are they? But…somehow, I did. Ginny, what does the last line of the prophecy say?"_

"_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives," she answered quickly, without hesitation. "But what does that…"_

_Her words trailed off into nothingness, as fear settled into her eyes._

"_Harry, tell me what the last Horcrux is!"_

_Instead of speaking, Harry raised her hand upwards. Using her finger, he began to slowly trace the contours of the scar on his forehead. Horror dawning in her eyes, she tried to pull her hand back, but Harry tightened his grip, continuing to trace the lightning bolt shape._

"_I'm so sorry, Gin."_

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Consciousness returned to him slowly, as if awaking from a deep sleep. Before any of his other senses could return, pain boldly proclaimed its presence. What the bloody hell was going-

Harry's eyes flew open as realization struck. Panicking, his hands pulled away from sticky blood, flying to his neck. Fumbling for a moment, he tore the pocket watch away from his neck, pulling it into view. The hour hand was positioned halfway between VIII and IX.

Only three and a half hours left.

Cursing to himself, fighting the persistent light-headedness, he gritted his teeth. Reaching down, he began to run his hand down the glass containers the bandolier held, each filled with a different colored potion. His hand settled on the fifth one down, on the left, a light pink one. Lifting it from the bandolier, he used his teeth to pull the cork out, spitting it carelessly off to the side.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his shirt up. The bloodstained fabric clung tightly to his stomach, causing him to hiss with pain as it brushed over his wound. The hole in his gut, roughly two inches in diameter, had clotted slightly at the edges, but still openly seeped. Blocking out the pain, he raised his wand, pointed it at the vial.

"_Accio."_

The thick, pasty pink substance flew from the vial, landing directly into his other hand. Dropping the wand, he rolled the substance between his hands, before dividing the pink substance in two. Half he set aside atop the discarded robe, half he rolled between his hands, before flattening it out into a disk approximately three inches in diameter.

Carefully, he placed the pink disk over the wound, covering it completely. Taking a deep breath, he began to press down softly around the disk's circumference. The pain was immense, but Harry bore it with a patient hand, blocking out agony as best as he could.

Upon finishing, he laid his head back, allowing a moment for the wound-sealant to harden slightly. He hadn't intended to visit Number Twelve Grimmauld Place until later, but his injuries while fighting the chimera had changed things. He had needed a quiet, deserted place to heal. Judging by the fact that Kreacher hadn't killed him in his sleep, it would appear he had made the right choice.

Rolling onto his side, he reached back, his fingers feeling around his lower back. With a wince, he found the smaller exit hole the chimera's horn had made on its way through his midsection. It was smaller than the wound on his front, but would certainly present a problem if not treated.

He repeated the healing process on his back, before doing the same to the twin puncture wounds on his right hand. By the time he was done, the seal on his stomach had completely hardened. Though the pink layer functioned like a scab, it looked more like someone had put a blowtorch to his midsection.

Wound-sealant nearly wasn't as good as completely re-growing the skin, but with his dearth of time, it was more than adequate.

As for any internal injuries…well, he'd take his chances. There was no quick fix for internal injuries, the only solution being a visit with a Healer, a luxury he could ill afford right now, especially with only a little over three hours left.

According to Pomfrey, stomach wounds were one of the most difficult injuries to treat, though in the short-term, extreme blood loss and evisceration were the two most pressing matters. If both were accounted for, internal bleeding was next on the list, with the victim having anywhere between three and forty-eight hours to live if untreated.

At least probability was on his side.

The worst of his wounds managed, he withdrew a red potion from the bandolier, downing it quickly. The Blood-Replenishing Potion tasted horrible, but the affront to his taste buds was a minor price to pay, especially considering the amount of blood he had lost.

Throwing aside the empty vial, he pulled one last potion out, a dark grey one. Uncorking it, he threw back the Pepperup Potion in one gulp. Though steam did spray forth from his ears, energy also coursed through his body, clearing the fog from his head. Scooping up his wand, he leapt to his feet, casually waving his wand. At once, the worst of the blood and grime disappeared from both his body and Lucius' robes. He picked up the black garments, throwing them on. They wouldn't be wise to wear at his next destination, but for now, would suffice.

His head clear, he took a glance around the Grimmauld Place entryway. Lit by the flickering light of badly maintained gas lamps, the view was not an inviting one. Thick layers of dust and cobwebs covered the peeling wallpaper. The portraits were so thickly caked that their inhabitants were completely obscured. All told, it looked like no one had set foot in the house for more than a decade.

Or, it would have, were there not multiple sets of fresh footprints in the dust.

Withdrawing his wand, Harry moved forward, as stealthily as possible. The tracks led down the entry hall, some disappearing into the narrow stairwell which led to the kitchen, the rest went upstairs.

None, he observed, led into the dining room, which suggested that it hadn't been a thief. Someone like Mundungus would have examined every room, searching for every last item of worth.

Sirius was the most logical explanation. Though he had lived in a cave during most of the Triwizard Tournament, it wasn't a stretch to think that Sirius had come back, at the very least for a change of clothes.

Though if he hadn't….who had?

No closer to an answer, Harry cast silencing charms on his feet, before ascending the grand staircase. In the gloom, he could barely make out the line of plaques baring shrunken house-elf heads. Completely covered with dust, they could have been anything.

Shaking his head, he began to have a deeper appreciation for the work that Molly Weasley just have put into cleaning the place up before he arrived the summer before his fifth year. Such a different time it had been, the last days of sanity for Britain.

Reaching the second floor landing, he saw that the footprints split off into several different directions. While most seemed to go upstairs, the others led into the small bedroom, and the bathroom.

A single pair, the freshest of all, led into the drawing room.

Wand drawn, Harry approached the door slowly, from an angle. Flattening himself against the wall, he reached out with his left hand, grasping the handle. With fluid grace, he opened the door a crack, before thrusting his wand through and casting a solar flare. Conjuring a shield, he launched himself into the room.

It was completely empty.

The drawing room's disrepair was just as advanced as the rest of the house. Layers of dust covered the thick curtains which hid the large window, completely obscuring the wide view of the street below. The two glass cabinets flanking the fireplace were similarly caked, as were the empty portraits on the left wall. All told, the only thing that looked like it had been touched was the tapestry of the Black family tree.

He gave the tapestry a cursory glance, before turning his attention back to the cabinets. Waving his wand a single time, he vanished the dust, revealing the object he sought.

Slytherin's locket.

Nestled between snakeskins, bottles of blood, boxes of Wartcap powder and various other Dark knickknacks was the locket. It was crafted from a heavy gold, with a large, green 'S' inlaid into the front.

Eyes narrowed, he summoned the locket, catching it by the chain. Holding it up, he reflected that it had taken him months to find Slytherin's locket, and had cost Ron Weasley his life.

Here, it had been a matter of hours.

Quickly, he put the locket around his neck, where it lay cold against his chest. With the volatile nature of horcruxes, if he destroyed it here, he ran the risk of destroying Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, which could not happen.

If he failed tonight, the Order would still need a viable headquarters.

As soon as he had slipped the chain around his neck, he felt a magical disturbance wash over him, before fading.

Someone had activated the wards.

He started to apparate away, but an oppressive weight pushed against him, courtesy of the anti-apparation wards. Cursing, he rapped himself on the head with his wand, but the spell quickly fizzled out.

He was not alone.

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_His footsteps heavy, Harry entered the dining room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. The fingers of his right hand entwined tightly with Ginny's, as though she were afraid to let him go. Her eyes were clear, and the tear-tracks on her freckled cheeks had been attended to. _

_His Ginny had always been strong for him, and he needed her more than ever right now, if he was to face the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix. _

_As his gaze swept around the room, his heart grew heavy. Was this always the price of war?_

_Zacharias sat near the back of the table, staring directly at the floor. Hermione sat beside him, clasping one of his hands, talking to him in hushed tones. _

_Martin Croaker, by far the oldest of them, sat across the table, his arms stained to the elbow in bright blood. His eyes stared out into empty space, unfocused. The former Unspeakable, completely inept in combat, had become the Order's unofficial healer following Pomfrey's death. _

_No doubt he was beating himself up about not being able to save poor Ernie, who in a better world, would have continued to drive the Knight Bus instead of throwing himself fully into this fruitless war. _

_Five people. _

_That was all that remained of the Order. _

_Exchanging glances with Ginny, she reluctantly released her grip on his hand, taking a seat at the table. _

_For a moment, he stared out over the few remaining survivors. What could he possibly say to them? They had all given everything for his cause, yet had nothing to show for it beyond having to watch each one of their family, friends and lovers die one by one. _

"_I want to thank you all," Harry began, his eyes roaming over all of their faces. "You all had the opportunity to leave of this behind, but chose to stay, to see this through to the end. Going back to Hogwarts was the most dangerous thing we could have done, but still, you stuck with me. I can't say how grateful I am to you all."_

"_For that reason," he continued, "I feel like I owe each and every one of you the complete truth of what I found today. Millicent, Oliver and Pomona all gave their lives so I could reach the Headmaster's Office."_

"_You made it?" sneered Zacharias, incredulously._

"_I did," Harry confirmed with a nod, ignoring Smith's tone, "but the price was high."_

_The four others nodded in agreement, all of their eyes mirrored in sadness. Harry found himself thinking of Oliver's unbridled enthusiasm for the war, of his absolute certainty that Harry was going to lead them to victory. _

"_So you talked to Dumbledore?" Croaker asked, finally lifting his gaze from the floor. _

_Harry nodded in the affirmative. _

"_I did, and, well…he had the answer."_

_Croaker, Hermione and Zacharias all leaned forward, their breaths held. With a soul-penetrating ache, he saw Ginny lower her head, as a single tear welled up within her eye and ran down her cheek. _

"_We were wrong," Harry explained, his voice barely above a whisper. "Voldemort didn't have six Horcruxes."_

_Shock found its way onto the assembled faces. Zacharias was the first to recover, slamming his fist on the table._

"_Bloody hell, you said six Horcurxes, Potter!"_

"_How the fuck was he supposed to know!" Ginny snapped back, her gaze fiery. "Dumbledore told us there were six! What, were we supposed to just assume he was lying to us?"_

_Zacharias glared at her for a moment, before leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms. Hermione shot him a scathing look, before addressing Harry. _

"_Do we know what the final one is?"_

_Immediately, Ginny covered her face in her hands, shudders wracking her petite frame. Hermione, not having the whole picture, looked upon her friend with concern, before glancing back towards Harry, concern in her eyes._

_With a hand that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, he raised his hand, pulling back a fringe of black hair, exposing the famed scar. _

_Hermione let out a loud gasp of horror, before covering her mouth with her hands. At once, she rose from her seat, rushing over to Harry._

"_I'm so sorry," she whispered into his ear, clinging to him tightly. He returned the embrace of his longest-remaining friend with interest. His chest grew damp with tears as she wept openly into his robes._

"_W-w-we'll find a way to fix this," she assured, drawing back from him slightly. Glancing into his eyes, her gaze grew determined._

"_I promise."_

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Harry remained stationary, only his eyes moving. Ears straining, he listened deeply, searching for some sort of sign, a hint of where the house's other occupant was.

All he heard was silence, unsurprisingly. He had left clear, fresh tracks in the dust, easily betraying his position. Creeping forward, wand raised, he inched away from the door, his eyes glued upon it. Inches from the fireplace on the opposite wall, he heard the barely audible shuffle of fabric.

Whirling around, he caught a fleeting glance of a ragged-looking man in the dim light, before a crimson spell clipped his side. Mercilessly Harry's wand was ripped away, and he was knocked backwards, colliding into the wall.

"Mind telling me what you're doing-" the man hoarsely began, but Harry, moving quickly, grabbed the iron poker from besides the fireplace and flung it. The blunt end struck his adversary in the stomach, eliciting a loud wheeze. Doubled over, he began to raise his wand, but Harry moved quickly, grabbing his arm.

"_Stupefy!"_

Forcing the arm to the side, the man's stunner went flying harmlessly into the wall, detonating the plaster. Harry swung his other elbow backwards, catching the man directly in the chest, knocking him backwards with a gasp of pain, ripping the wand from his grasp.

Hearing the whirring of movement, Harry turned, to see the curtains come alive. Lifting and swaying, they shook, before doxies began to pour from the fabric, shaking off dust as they flew. Covered in fine black fur, their needle-like teeth were on full display as they charged, fully intending to pump him full of their venom.

Jabbing his wand, forward, he launched a banisher. The area-effect spell caught the charging doxies and flung them backwards, splattering their flimsy bodies against the window, painting the curtains black with their innards.

Quickly whipping his wand around, he saw his attacker raise Lucius' stolen wand. Rushing forward, Harry launched a bludgeoner. The spell slammed into his opponent, driving him into the wall. The man broke through the damaged plaster with ease, awkwardly landing on the carpet in the hallway.

Wand raised, prepared to finish off his opponent, he froze in place as hallway's dim torchlight illuminated the man's face, revealing his identity.

Sirius Black was just as frail as Harry remembered from the Triwizard tournament. His dark hair hung ragged in tangled clumps, while his dark eyes had sunken deep into his sockets.

What the bloody hell was he doing back at Grimmauld Place?

Using Harry's temporary pause, Sirius leapt to his feet, wand raised, launching a blue spell.

Harry quickly brought his wand across his body, swatting aside the spell, before thrusting forward, launching his own curse.

His eyes widening at Harry's display of advanced deflection, Sirius quickly conjured a crimson shield.

Just as Harry thought he would.

His shield-breaker detonated Sirius' shield in a bright arc of magic, the backlash knocking his godfather back a step. Whipping his wand forward, Harry launched a disarmer, catching Sirius directly in the chest. The spell ripped away Sirius' wand and blew him backwards, sending him crashing through the wooden banister cross-pieces. Harry caught the wand neatly as Sirius crashed into the wall, before hitting the stairs and tumbling down them, out of sight.

Jumping forward, Harry leapt through the rough hole in the wall, but his robes caught on the edge, temporarily entangling him. With a snarl, he tore away from the wall. Moving quickly Harry turned, pointing his wand down the stairs.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath, seeing that they were empty. It had only been a second, but it was long enough for Sirius to run out of sight. Stowing Sirius' wand in a back-pocket, he began to descend slowly, one step at a time. His godfather may not have a wand, but being an Animagus, he was still dangerous, and seemed to have a few tricks up his sleeve.

How the bloody hell had Sirius snuck up behind him in the drawing room? He had definitely cleared it, of that he had zero doubt.

Cautiously making his way down the stairs, passing by empty portraits and the mounted heads of elves, he heard the same rustle of fabric. For the briefest of moments, on the edge of his vision, he saw Sirius leap from the portrait, before his godfather leapt upon his back, looping an arm around Harry's windpipe.

Immediately the arm clamped down tightly, the grip far more potent than Harry had imagined. Thrashing, Harry threw himself against the wall, crushing his godfather, but the grip held strong.

"You know," Sirius rasped, "I don't really care if people use this house. Bit too gloomy for my taste, you know? But letting Death Eaters-"

Bending his knees, Harry fell forward, turning his head to the side. Sirius only had a brief moment before his forehead smashed into the wooden banister, leaving a bloody imprint. Harry landed hard upon the stairs, but shrugged Sirius' weight off him, sending him rolling down the stairs. As he jumped up, he felt the wand ripped from his grasp. Turning, he saw it zoom down the stairs.

At the bottom stood the wrinkled from of Kreacher, his right arm raised in the air.

"How my mistress hates the dirty blood-traitor," Kreacher croaked, "but Master Regulus says the locket must be destroyed."

"Thanks for the support," Sirius deadpanned from the ground, blood seeping from the wide gash on his forehead. Ignoring Sirius, Kreacher snapped his fingers. Immediately, a procession of knives flew upwards from the kitchen, hovering in mid-air at the foot of the stairs.

"You will give me Master Regulus' locket," Kreacher ordered, the knives wavering.

"Fine," Harry answered immediately, his mind racing. Inspiration striking, he reached to his left, tearing at one of the mounted house-elf heads.

"No!" Kreacher exclaimed, his features becoming frenzied. Dropping his right hand, the knives flew through, cutting through the air with a low whoosh. With movements nearly too quick to track, Harry drew Sirius' wand from his back-pocket, quickly conjuring a physical shield. The grey shield materialized quickly, the knives slamming harmlessly into it. Canceling the shield, the knives dropped to the floor as Harry whipped his wand forward.

"Mistress says-" was all Kreacher got out before Harry's stunner felled him, dropping the elf like a stone.

Sirius, his face nearly covered in blood, scooted backwards, out of sight. With a grimace, his roughly-healed stomach hurting from the impact, Harry began to make his way down the stairs, frustration clawing at his mind. He would have rather left Sirius alone, but Harry imagined that the wards Sirius had brought down might not take kindly to an unauthorized exit.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he began to walk down the entryway. On both sides of him, empty portraits loomed. Harry imagined that the portraits acted as short-cuts between parts of the house. He had never seen anything like it, but as a security measure, was undeniably effective.

Reaching up, Harry pulled out his watch, giving a quick glance towards the face. Seeing that only ten minutes remained in the hour, he let out a loud curse. This was supposed to be the easiest stop, and already he'd been here for more than an hour!

The heavy weight of time bearing down upon him, Harry whipped his wand forward. Fueled by his anger, his desperation, a blasting curse leaped from his wand. Nearly two times larger than usual, the blasting curse flew down the hall, slamming into the door. With an ear-splitting crack it exploded, blowing out the entire entryway.

No sooner had the spell been cast, a large, black shape jumped out of one of the portraits. Pulling his arm back, he narrowly avoided Sirius' open jaws. Backing up, he began to swing his wand around, only to have his feet tangle in the troll-leg umbrella stand. Harry fell over backwards, the back of his head colliding with the hardwood floor.

At once, the black dog was upon him. Reaching out, Harry grabbed Sirius around the throat, holding him at bay. Saliva dripped onto him as Sirius snapped at the air, using his paws to pin Harry's wand arm to the ground. Gritting his teeth, Harry brought his knee up as hard as he could, directly into Sirius' unprotected privates.

It apparently hurt just as much in a dog form, because Sirius let out a howl, drawing back slightly. Holding tight around Sirius' throat with his left hand, Harry dropped his wand, before swinging forward with his recently-freed fist, smashing it directly into Sirius' nose. A glazed look immediately descended over Sirius' dark eyes as he fell backwards, transforming back into human form.

Jumping up, Harry pointed his wand down, but all the fight had gone from his godfather. His eyes glassy, blood still welling from the split skin on his forehead, he merely sat against the wall, panting heavily.

"I don't remember you from Azkaban," Sirius airily noted. "I guess Voldemort's been recruiting."

Anger still overcoming him, the tip of his wand shook as he pointed it at his godfather. How much time had he lost fighting his stupid battle?

Five minutes? Ten? Fifteen?

All were unacceptable. Even seconds were precious, and this areshole had cost him plenty. Was there even enough time left to finish his task?

"_He's not the enemy, Harry."_

Ginny's words flowed through his head, bringing clarity. Had he really been that close to killing his godfather?

Taking a deep breath, he lowered his wand. Reaching up, he grasped the locket, sticking it back into his robes. Sirius' eyes followed him as he did, puzzlement clouding them.

"Do I…know you?" he asked doubtfully.

"Next time, spend more time fighting, and less talking," Harry said with a wry, slight grin, before turning. He considered hitting his godfather with a Memory Charm, but quickly discarded the idea. It had taken Sirius far longer than Harry expected to notice the similarities between him and his god-son, but making the connection didn't really matter a great deal.

In three more hours, the point would be moot.

"Wait!' Sirius yelled, but Harry was already out the ruined entryway, into the cool evening air. Without a look back, he apparated away.

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Author Notes:

Not exactly a ground-breaking chapter, with the Slytherin's Locket being, in my estimation, the least interesting Horcrux to track down in time-travel stories. I hope that Sirius' arrival helped to make it interesting. For those of you wondering why he was there, I imagine that if Kreacher, watching silent and invisible, thought the Locket was at risk, he might try to get Sirius' help, making up something about Death Eaters at Grimmauld Place.

The next chapter won't surface for a long time. I really want to get cracking on the next chapter of Sitra Ahra, and I also have an entry in a DLP Dark Arts competition in the works, of which the first chapter is now complete. You know, because I don't have enough incomplete stories.

Thanks to Princess Serine and Liron-Aria for their hard work on the chapter.

Any comments or questions shall receive a reply. I very much enjoy feedback, as it serves to inspire my muse. Even a simple "liked it" or "it sucked" is usually enough to coerce me back to the computer, as opposed to continue playing Dead Space 2.

DLP Thanks:

Blazzano, animekingmike, rinsimyaldee, Portus, disturbed27, General Custer, Fardeki, jpdt19, NoxedSalvation, awinarock, Tharkun, Nightfox, HW597, Tenages, knight504, JenosIdanian, uriel, Salah, dey1234


	7. X: The Tenth Hour

The Unforgiving Minute

X: The Tenth Hour

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**19:50**

His head pounding, the rudimentary sealant on his stomach aching, Harry arrived in the dilapidated room. His feet landed heavily upon the floor, throwing up small clouds of dust. He let out a small cough as his pupils widened, adjusting to the scarcity of light.

Dust covered every inch of the bedroom, though it was thickest upon the large four-poster bed, the once ornate hangings gone to ruin. On the warped, broken floor, there were slight indentations, as if years ago, there had been some sort of disturbance.

He should know. A little more than a year ago, his thirteen year-old self had stumbled into the Shrieking Shack, and had finally confronted Sirius Black, Azkaban escapee, the famed mass-murderer that had killed thirteen Muggles with a single curse.

On the rear wall, right next to a window fitted with spider-webbed glass, obscured by heavy wooden shutters, was a large indentation in the rotting plaster. It was roughly man-shaped, as it had been where Snape had struck after both Hermione and himself had opted to simultaneously disarm him. The impact had knocked the Potions Master out, but Harry was not above hoping that it had fucking hurt in the second before unconsciousness had claimed him.

In a time and place more than a decade into the future, but mere months ago to him, Harry had originally considered traveling back to this very day. It would have provided the chance to intervene before Pettigrew's escape, clearing Sirius in the process, and preventing Voldemort's resurrection.

However, he had discarded the idea quickly. Aside from the Aurors and Dementors already being on high alert due to the Sirius' escape from Azkaban, he had no idea of where Voldemort had been hiding. No, if he was to only have twelve hours, he'd need to know exactly where each major piece was located. The original location of Hufflepuff's Cup had been of concern, but every other factor had been a known quantity.

The day of the Third Task it had been.

Shaking his head, Harry cursed himself for his reminiscence. It was almost eight o' clock, which was far later than he had planned, as Grimmauld Place was only supposed to have been a quick trip.

"Goddammit Sirius," Harry swore to himself, withdrawing Slytherin's locket from his robes. Swinging it by the silver chain, he tossed it onto the bedding, throwing up a cloud of dust particles. Whipping forward his wand, he conjured a torrent of Fiendfyre.

The cursed orange flames leapt forth from his wand, towards the ancient bedding. For the briefest of moments, the silver and emerald face of the locket reflected the flames, before it was completely consumed. Flames hungrily ate at the locket, instantly reducing it to slag as they burned into the bedding, setting it alight.

The second Horcrux was no more.

The roaring flames reaching higher, setting the ceiling alight, Harry turned away from the sight. Smoke beginning to fill the room, sweat starting to break out across his brow, Harry walked out of the old bedroom, into the dilapidated hallway. The ghosts of footprints dotted the floor of the hallway as he swiftly passed down the corridor, onto the staircase.

The temperature rising rapidly, he made his way slowly down the creaking steps, which were bereft of banister. Towards the bottom, the warped wooden slats began to bend dangerously under his weight. With a single leap, he jumped the last few, throwing up another thick cloud of dust.

Reflecting his third-year passage into the Shrieking Shack, Harry swept down the darkened hallway, into a small room at the back of the house, which held the smashed chair. Stepping over one of the discarded legs, he leveled his wand at the floor, shooting a blast of air from it. The gust disturbed the thick dust, revealing a rusting iron ring set into the floor. A flick of his wand raised it upwards, throwing open the trap door.

The smell of wet rot wafted out of the cobwebbed tunnel below, which disappeared into darkness. Ignoring the path to the Whomping Willow, Harry quickly cast silencing charms on his feet, before swinging his wand around and rapping himself atop the head. The familiar feeling of cold running down the back of his neck, he pointed his wand at the wall.

The shutters blew open at his command, revealing the edges of the Forbidden Forest. With swift movements, he dove through the window, rolling once upon the loose dirt and weeds in the forgotten, crumbling garden, before jumping up. Casually flicking his wand behind him, he closed the shutters.

Even in the unlikely event that the Aurors were able to stop the Fiendfyre from consuming the entire house, with the trapdoor open, they might think that the perpetrator had destroyed the Shrieking Shack to cover their entrance into the tunnel.

Hopefully, anyway.

Hearing the murmur of approaching voices, Harry raced across the backyard, to the fringes of the Forbidden Forest. Beneath cover of the fading light, he crept along the edge of the woods. Hearing excited voices, he saw witches and wizards come running past him up the dirt road.

"It's Fiendfyre!" an older witch shouted, pointing in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. Chancing a look back, Harry saw that it was indeed obvious. Against the backdrop of the darkened woods, a large orange phoenix rose up from the inferno, spreading its wings wide.

"Shite," Harry silently swore again. He hadn't thought it would grow that quickly, instead of being a subtle distraction, the act of torching the ancient house had all the subtlety of a Weasley prank. Hopefully the bystanders all knew better than to get too close to the demonic fire.

Swiftly moving up the road, the first of the Aurors made their wand down the dirt road, crimson robes flapping in the evening breeze. Satisfied, Harry moved deeper into the lush undergrowth. He didn't need the Aurors to be distracted for long, just enough to reach his goal.

Cutting diagonally across the forest, he broke out from the trees, coming out behind a squat brick building. A large, red double-door was visible from the rear, set into a slight alcove.

Creeping his way through the grass, Harry waved his wand in front of the door. For a short second, a criss-crossing network of colored lines, spreading all over the surface of the building, came into view, before fading away.

The building was tightly warded, far more so than Harry would have expected. It appeared that Ambrosius Flume, the proprietor of Honeydukes, might have had his share of burglaries.

"Shite," Harry swore to himself, idly tapping his wand against the leg. He could probably disable the wards, but it would not be quick work, even under the most ideal of circumstances. Hammering them down would be quicker, but would alert the Aurors.

Which left him with only one choice.

His face set in determination, Harry reversed the Disillusionment Charm, and starting walking towards the street-facing side of Honeydukes.

Through the front door it would have to be.

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_In the center of the Black library three figures sat around a vast, circular table crafted from finely polished oak, which glinted as it caught the flickering torchlight. Thick leather-bound tomes and scraps of parchment covered most of the surface, leaving little in the way for elbow room. _

_A slight expression of annoyance upon her features, Hermione leaned back in her chair. Her dark robes pulled taut against her front for a moment, exposing not only the generous assets of her chest, but a midsection that seemed to be slightly larger than normal. _

_Most would say that the fiercely intelligent Muggleborn witch had just gained a little weight, but Harry couldn't help but notice that it hadn't been distributed to any other part of her body. _

"_Upon first glimpse, one would be driven to say that it doesn't make any sense," she started, pulling a thick tome from the top of one of the piles. _

_Upon dark black leather, the title, 'Magick Most Evile', was emblazoned in gold lettering. A bookmark with a hanging purple tassel hung from it, which Hermione used to find a particular passage, before beginning to read._

"_Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction-"_

"_That doesn't tell us a great deal," Croaker pointed out dryly. "I don't know why we're wasting out time with that book, when he have the wealth of the Black family's interest in the Dark Arts at our fingertips."_

"_It says what we need it to," Hermione insisted as she leaned forward, her robe losing shape, obscuring her form. "For a moment, just for the sake of argument, let's say that you're Voldemort."_

"_That's a little beyond my level of imagination," Croaker replied with a smirk. _

"_And you call yourself an Unspeakable," Harry quipped, eliciting a chuckle from the older man. _

"_Just humor me," Hermione said, her smile taking on a strained quality. "You're the most powerful Dark Lord in the world, perhaps a year away from conquering magical Britain, but then you catch wind of a certain prophecy. A child has just been born, and according to prophecy, he supposedly possesses the power to destroy you."_

"_Awfully delusional of this Dark Lord to buy into such foolishness," Harry said with a grin, trying to keep the atmosphere light. He had the vague idea of where Hermione was headed, and didn't want to discourage her from exploring any ideas for his sake. _

_With her honey colored eyes, Hermione favored him with a look of gratitude, before turning back to Croaker. _

"_So, what do you do?" she asked rhetorically, before answering her own question. "You put forth all your resources into finding this child. You fight your way through…"_

_Almost guiltily, Hermione shot him a quick glance. Almost imperceptibly, Harry inclined his head, urging her to continue. Clearly relieved, she did so. _

"_You fight through the child's parents, and finally, it's just you, alone. This is it, the moment you've worked for. Soon, you'll be free to terrorize the world without the threat of a prophecy hanging out your head. Does this seem like the ideal moment to make a Horcrux?"_

"_Well, obviously, it makes no sense," Croaker agreed. "If he did indeed fire the killing curse at Harry, as the stories seem to indicate, there's no way he planned to keep him around. You don't go to the effort of creating a Horcrux just to destroy it moments later."_

"_Exactly," Hermione agreed, nodding vigorously. "So where does that put us?"_

"_The book's wrong," Croaker concluded, motioning towards 'Magick Most Evile'. "There is certainly a process to creating a Horcrux, but it's not a rigid discipline. It may not even require special circumstances."_

"_I'm pretty sure that most of the time it does," Harry interjected, before pointing to the prominent, lightning-shaped scar upon his forehead. "I think this would count as special circumstances."_

"_A splitting of hairs," Croaker said, waving him off. "The point is that the process of making a Horcrux is not strictly defined."_

"_That's what I think too," Hermione revealed, before picking up a large, heavy grimoire, entitled 'Secrets of the Darkest Art'. "Which means," she continued, nonchalantly dropping the heavy book to the floor, "That there's more than one way to destroy a Horcrux. Harry, we can do this!"_

_At her conclusion, Harry sent her a fond smile, giving no hint that he held absolutely no hope. Wherever the prophecy had come from, its creator had already known that Harry and Voldemort would destroy each other. Neither could live it had explicitly stated._

_Nonetheless, he favored the stunning bushy-haired witch with a fond smile._

"_I know you can."_

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Turning his back on the black smoke rising above the treetops, Harry made his way around the brick exterior of Honeydukes, to the street. Witches and wizards passed by him blindly, their curious eyes turned towards the smoking ruin of the Shrieking Shack.

Slightly lowering his gaze, Harry turned the corner. Rising a quick glimpse to his left, through the large plate glass window, he saw that the stores only had a few scant customers. A young couple browsed the shelves of chocolates, while an older, severe looking woman examining a box of Acid Pops. Counting the two Flumes, that made five people.

Not ideal, but doable.

A bell tinkled above as Harry opened the door to the large interior. Tall wooden shelves lined the walls, each glass cased bin filled with chocolate, toffee, nougat and other sweets too numerous to mention. The majority of the floor space was taken up by various displays of candy. A pyramid of pink coconut squares directly in the middle stretched all the way to the ceiling.

Harry's entrance drew the attention of Ambrosius Flume, the owner of Honeydukes, along with his wife, who was currently ringing up the young couple.

"We'll be closing in five minutes," he announced wearily, drawing a sharp, haughty look from the older, dark-haired woman. Giving a casual nod in response, Harry pretended to browse the stacks, while subtly drawing his wand.

The young blonde man, no greater than a few years out of Hogwarts, never felt anything as Harry silently Summoned a stray piece of hair from his collar. Catching it in his hand, Harry quickly pocketed it, before waiting for the other patrons to leave.

With an impatient glare, Harry mentally commanded the woman to leave, but having made her circuit of the Acid Pops, she moved onto the nougat, apparently unconcerned with the warning of the store closing soon. His patience growing thin, Harry withdrew his pocket watch.

Harry cursed at the time, drawing the attention of the shop's three other inhabitants. It was three minutes past eight.

Far too late.

Walking straight up the counter, he looked down upon the elderly woman, who cowered slightly in his shadow. He took no pride in what he was about to do, but time was too short, too valuable to waste with niceties.

"Excuse me, can I help you," Mr. Flume asked forcefully, making his way to the back of the store. Turning around, drawing his wand in a fluid movement, he flung a Stunner at the old man. He only had time to widen his eyes before the crimson spell struck him in the arm, dropping him where he stood.

"Ambrosius!" the plump older woman cried, before Harry spun around, his wand pointed forward.

"_Imperio."_

The terror immediately vacated her bright blue eyes, leaving behind a glassy serenity. Hearing movement behind him, he spun back around, to see the older woman thrust her wand towards him.

"_Stupefy!"_

Harry swung his wand forward, swatting away the Stunner. The black-haired woman ducked, the spell flying over her head and slamming into the pink coconut pyramid. It exploded like a ripe berry, the wave of sugary confection stopped by Harry's quickly conjured physical shield.

The woman took the brunt of the wave of pink candy, completely covering her. Looking like a festive snowman, she let out a screech of rage as she swung her wand around, clearing the coconut from her eyes, just in time to catch a Stunner to the face, her eyes not even having the opportunity to widen.

She immediately slumped to the ground, her sweets covered body making a squishing sound as it hit. Wand forward, Harry slung two quick Obscuration Charms at the two large plate glass windows. It wouldn't have worked on a normal day, but between the Triwizard Tournament and the burning of the Shrieking Shack, it would be enough.

"Close up the shop and clean it up," Harry ordered, turning to Mrs. Flume. The plump elderly woman had not moved from her place behind the counter during the fight, watching the entire ordeal with a detached interest.

"Right away," she replied, leaving behind the counter and moving towards the front of the store. Not bothering to watch her, Harry levitated both of the unconscious adults into the air, leading them through the swinging door behind the counter, spots of melted pink coconut marking the passage on the floor.

The rear of the store was a kitchen of unsettling proportion, as if it were giants that used it instead of wizards. On the far back wall, large stoves were lined, each with burners bigger than a platter. A dizzying collection of iron molds, pots and pans hung on hooks from the ceiling, gently swinging back and forth. A large island sat in the middle, topped with granite.

Quickly Harry levitated the bodies behind the island, laying them on the floor. After a half-second of hesitation, he turned away and left the kitchen behind.

A Stunner was typically powerful enough to keep someone under for at least a half-hour, though the time fluctuated with the magical skill of the person Stunned. Judging by the ease with how he had defeated Mr. Flume and the older witch, he would have plenty of time to make it to Hogwarts and back before they woke up.

Out in the open, Harry saw that the large sign in front of the store had been turned over, now reading 'Closed' to any potential customers. Diligently, Mrs. Flume was using her wand to vanish bits of the destroyed sweet, which had left its mark on almost every surface on the store.

Satisfied, Harry took the large door to his right, set into an alcove, just out of sight from the customers. The stone stairs led downwards, into darkness.

Taking the stairs quickly, Harry lit his wand, causing the shadows to retreat. The basement was half the size of the upper floor, nearly filled to capacity with brightly colored boxes and crates. The cement floor was cool and dry, with none of the moisture or disrepair associated with buildings below ground level.

Following the memories of his Third Year excursions into Hogsmeade, Harry made his way around the boxes to the rear of the basement. With a wave of his wand, a section of floor, formerly seamlessly integrated into the dusty ground, swung outwards. Without hesitation he jumped down, closing the trapdoor behind him.

The space below Honeydukes had earthen walls, with crumbling stone stairs leading downwards into darkness. Harry hadn't the faintest idea who would go through all the effort to make a connecting passage, but was grateful for their existence.

His wand held aloft, lighting his way, Harry raced down the passage, taking the worn stairs four at a time. One hundred and twelve steps later, his feet placed down upon the damp ground at the bottom, sliding slightly. The rough movements of leaping down the stairs had begun to pain his stomach slightly, but he shrugged them off, moving deeper into the passage.

He began to jog across the uneven floor of the rock tunnel, following its twisting path through the ground. Sweat quickly began to break out over his body, due to the humid nature of the passage, but he maintained a steady pace as he wound through the earth beneath Hogwarts. It was very clear that architect of the tunnel had either not cared or had never learned that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line.

Eventually he reached a smooth stone ramp, stretching upwards. Stopping for a moment, he reached into his robes, and withdrew the last of the Polyjuice from the bandolier. Raising it to his eye level, he saw that the flask was only a quarter full.

At most, he had fifteen minutes before the transformation failed. Cursing his loss of five hours, Harry took the hair he plucked from the boy's head, and placed it in the potion. It fizzed for a moment, before turning a light shade of green. Quickly he downed the unpleasant substance, causing his insides to churn, and his skin to bubble most uncomfortably. He doubled over in discomfort at the final step took place, pain coursing through his body as his bones shrunk.

Rising up from his bent over position, the transformation complete, Harry saw that Lucius' robes dragged slightly on the floor. Cutting them away at the bottom, he brought his wand up, transfiguring the smooth surface of the stone ramp into sandpaper.

Backing up slightly, he lit his wand, before taking a running jump. His momentum moving upwards, his boots gripping the rough surface, he clambered up the ramp, not stopping until he reached a blank expanse of stone near the top. Extinguishing the light, he tapped it upon the flat stone, the words that the Marauder's Map had given him so long ago on the tip of his tongue.

"_Dissendium."_

The grinding of stone met his ears as the stone slid aside. Eagerly, he stepped through threshold, his boots coming down on cool stone. Stepping out from the shadow of the statue of the One-Eyed Witch, the Third-Floor Corridor came into view.

With its quiet halls, adorned with statues and tapestries flapping the breeze, it was a far cry from the nightmare vision Hogwarts had become in his world. The last time he had seen the Third-Floor Corridor, thick webbing had covered every inch of the halls, broken only by the dried remains of unfortunate victims of Voldemort's magically-enhanced acromantulas.

Taking a right, he crept down the deserted hallway, passing the Charms classroom. As he had thought, there were few people around, most likely due to the imminence of the Third Task.

Behind him, he heard the stone witch's hump slide back into place as he took a right turn, hugging the corridor wall. Creeping down the hall, he spied the double-doors leading to the Infirmary. Ignoring them, he took another right turn, which emptied out at the bottom of a stone spiral staircase. As soon as he stepped out of sight, he heard the Infirmary door open.

Stepping onto the first step, Harry froze in place at the sounds coming from the hallway. They were footsteps, but not of the typical variety. As opposed to double footfalls, a single boot hit the stone, followed by a short, sharp rap, like a cane hitting the floor. As if the person possessed a wooden leg.

Just as Mad-Eye Moody had.

A cold, silent rage settling over his mind, Harry swept his wand down, adorning his boots with silencing charms. Quietly, he crept back into the third-floor corridor, taking a right at the Infirmary.

Sure enough, the large, bulk form of Mad-Eye Moody was moving away from him, clunking away at a high speed, his straggly grey hair flying behind him. Gaining on the disabled professor due to his unburdened gait, Harry drew his wand.

Right now, Crouch Jr., in guise of Mad-Eye, was no doubt on his way to the maze which now covered the Quidditch Pitch. In less than an hour, he would find entry into the maze, and do everything he could to assure that Harry Potter reached the Triwizard Cup first.

Taking a quick look around, Harry saw that he was the only one in sight. Stopping for a moment, he raised his wand, aiming it between Crouch's shoulder blades, a killing curse upon his lips.

One spell, and he could change everything.

Shaking his head, cognizant of what he was about to do, Harry hesitantly lowered the wand, stowing it within his robes. Without Crouch's interference, there was no guarantee that Harry would reach the Cup first, and despite being handed such a golden opportunity, sadly, Harry needed everything to occur exactly as it had.

Everything.

As soon as his wand was stowed, Crouch froze in his tracks, before spinning around, wand pointed straight at Harry.

"Woah, what's the big deal?" Harry asked, holding up his hands, which were smooth and unblemished, bearing no resemblance to his own.

Moody's electric blue eye rolled in his head, while his mouth pulled into a scowl.

"You're following me, son, and that's not something you want to do to old Mad-Eye. Where are you going?"

"O-out to the Third Task," Harry stuttered, before lowering his eyes to the ground. In his own form, it would have never worked, but in this much younger body, probably fresh from Hogwarts, it was more than effective.

"Is that so? Then don't let me stop you," Moody snapped, before marching off, his fake leg dragging awkwardly as he walked.

Harry stood in place for a moment, just long enough for Crouch to round a corner, before sprinting back in the opposite direction. Reaching the spiral staircase, he rushed up it, taking the steps three at a time. Fortunately his borrowed body was in good shape, and he made it up the seventh floor with minimum taxation upon his breathing.

Exiting from the staircase, he crept down the deserted hallway, making his way down the familiar seventh-floor corridors. Nostalgia pulled at his mind as he passed a familiar alcove, one that Ginny and he had stopped often at during the end of his sixth-year to steal kisses.

Turning a corner, he saw the renowned tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, eternally trying to teach trolls the art of ballet. Rapidly, he walked back and forth in front of the blank expanse of wall, his eyes closed, and a single phrase repeating in his head.

"I need a place to hide my book."

Upon completion of the third pass, he opened his eyes, to find that a large door had appeared on the blank wall. Harry immediately entered through it, at last finding the hiding place of the Diadem.

The room was as large as a cathedral, with high windows which let in slanted rays of sunlight, throwing all of the clutter into sharp focus. Alleys and roads made from broken, tottering furniture separated the sections of the room. Working from memory, he made his way through the maze, to the large cupboard with acid burns upon the front. Opening the creaky door, he was met with the sight of vast clutter, including books, corked bottles, and a cage with a five-legged skeleton inside.

Most importantly, however was the tarnished tiara sitting on one of the upper shelves.

Ravenclaw's Diadem.

With slightly shaking hands, he withdrew the tiara from cabinet. Dusty, with a dull-looking sapphire set into the center, it was no wonder he had passed by it without a second look during his sixth-year.

Turning it over in his hands, the dusty silver grew scorching hot beneath his hands. With a hiss, he dropped the diadem to the ground, feeling blisters begin to form on his hands. With a snarl, Harry launched a kick as the cursed object, sending it tumbling down the alleyway, coming to rest at a pile of broken, bloodstained axes and swords. Withdrawing his wand, he thrust it forward.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

The green light struck the diadem directly in the center, destroying it in a rain of silver shrapnel. With a satisfied nod, Harry turned away from the remains of the Voldemort's horcrux, and made his way back through the maze.

X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X

_A gentle fire crackling in the ornate fireplace sent flickers of yellow light splashing across the Drawing Room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Having once been home to more than sixty witches and wizards, those unable to fight on the battlefield had instead waged war upon the Dark aspects of the ancient home. _

_Gone were the Dark artifacts and other dangerous objects, not to mention the Black family tree, bereft of Sirius' name. The doxy- infested curtains had been purged, leaving no chance of attack while attempting to have a pleasant evening. _

_Just as Harry was currently attempting to do with his wife._

_On a long couch directly across from the fire sat Harry, length-wise. Ginny sat between his legs, leaning into him, her back pressed into his midsection. Bending down to her creamy pale, freckled skin, he nuzzled the nape of her neck, blowing aside wisps of ginger hair. She chuckled at his ministrations, playfully squirming away with a chuckle. _

"_Why Mister Potter," she said, her voice containing barely restrained laughter, "Aren't you aware that at any moment, someone could come through the door?"_

"_Oh, I don't know about that," Harry said slyly. Reaching over to his wand, lying on a nearby end table, he silently slung a Locking Spell directly at the door, causing the lock to click into place. _

"_I mean, it is fairly late at night," he continued, before carelessly tossing the holly and phoenix-feather wand back onto the table. He then wrapped his arms around her shoulders, crossing them over one another and pulling her back towards him. _

"_Hmm, you know, it is," she agreed with a content sigh, grinding her rear into the straining hardness below his belt. _

"_What have we here?" Ginny asked playfully. _

"_Someone who's always glad to make your acquaintance."_

"_Oh, is that so? And does this 'someone' intend to work the same sort of magic that Mr. Smith has upon Miss Granger?"_

_Surprised, Harry let out a snort of laughter. _

"_How much longer do you think she's going to try to hide it?"_

"_Well, you know Hermione," she wistfully replied. "She'll keep pretending that her loose-fitting robes are actually hiding her pregnancy until one of us calls her out on it."_

"_Probably," Harry agreed._

"_During which," Ginny continued, turning her head to partially meet his gaze, "I will expect to have your full support for."_

"_Yes dear," answered Harry with a grin, placing a gentle kiss on her freckled forehead. _

"_I'm serious," she insisted, turning around on the couch so that she was on her knees, facing him, her normally warm brown eyes narrowed. "She's beginning to reach the point that if she keeps pushing herself hard on the Extractor, she'll…"_

_Ginny trailed off, realizing that she had just dragged the giant elephant in the room into the conversation. _

"_I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. The two typically had an agreement not to discuss the horcrux tied to him, as it was a painful reminder of the very real possibility Harry wouldn't live through the war. _

"_You have nothing to be sorry for," he assured, raising a hand to her face and cupping a cheek. "I was serious too, and I'll be right there with you when we tell Hermione to slow down, and actually act like she's pregnant."_

"_Yeah, I know," she sighed, her gaze trailing downwards. "But we were having such a good night, and I had to ruin it by mentioning-"_

"_Ginny, please shut the fuck up," Harry kindly requested._

_Her eyes widened for a moment, before Harry leaned forward, capturing her lips with searing kiss. Quickly it deepened, their mouths opening wider to accommodate one another. She let out a low moan, all the way from the back of her throat, before Harry broke the kiss._

"_Better?"_

"_Mmm. Much," she agreed, closing her eyes for a moment, before quickly placing her hands on his chest and pushing him back against the arm of the couch. From her knees, she leaned forward, capturing their lips once again. She broke it first this time around, sliding down underneath his chin, trailing kisses down to the tender flesh of his neck._

_Helpless, he let in a sharp intake of breath at her ministrations, before she began to slide her knees backwards, her face trailing downwards. Nearly panting with anticipation, the back of Harry's hands found their way into Ginny's ginger tresses, urging and pleading for her to continue. _

_A loud, sudden blow upon the door interrupted them, causing both to jump. _

"_Fuck!" Ginny swore, her head darting up._

"_We're a little busy!" Harry said loudly, making no attempt to hide his extreme annoyance. _

"_I need to talk to you, Harry!" Croaker yelled, giving no indication he knew or cared he was interrupting. "But the door's locked."_

"_Gee, I wonder why," Ginny spat, crossing her arms._

"_Did you hear me?" Harry yelled back, angrily. _

"_Just go see what he fucking wants," Ginny said with a huff. "He sounds strange, so there really might be something wrong."_

_Though it was the last thing Harry wanted to do, the first being his wife, the second being throttling Croaker, experience and patience stayed his hand. _

"_Don't go anywhere," Harry said with a slightly forced grin, before rising from the couch._

"_Just make it quick though," she urged, flashing him a wide smile and a wink. _

_Moving quickly, Harry grabbed his wand from the table and rushed to the door, unlocking it with a casual wave of his wand. Opening it, Croaker made as if to enter, but Harry kept moving, driving the former Unspeakable back, closing the door behind him. _

"_What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want?"_

_Seemingly unperturbed by his hostility, the elderly wizard's red-rimmed eyes darted back and forth, his white hair sticking up in all the wrong places. _

"_We need to talk," Croaker repeated, beginning to knead his gnarled hands. _

"_So talk."_

"_In private," he clarified, shaking his head._

"_You just interrupted myself and my wife, Martin," he snapped impatiently. "If you don't make this quick, I'm going back inside."_

"_Fine," he snapped, bringing up his wand and casting a Veil of Privacy around them. _

_Harry was surprised to see the advanced charm. What was so secret that it couldn't be talked about around the other three inhabitants of the house?_

"_Do you think the Extractor is really going to work?"_

_If not for the unease, the agony in the man's voice, Harry would have immediately turned around and left him, but the desperate quality in it spoke to him. Whatever was on his mind, it was clearly eating at him._

"_I…I don't think so," Harry answered truthfully. Having both destiny and the odds against him was not an encouraging sign. _

_Croaker nodded to himself, almost in a satisfied manner, before canceling the Veil of Privacy, and walking away._

_For a moment, slightly surprised by Croaker's abrupt departure, he considered chasing after the man, before discarding the idea. _

_After all, it was impolite to keep a lady waiting. _

X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X

Harry left the Room of Requirement without a look back, brushing dust off his front as he moved. His eyes darting back and forth, making sure the coast was clear. Loathe to get caught now that his work at Hogwarts was done; he crept back down the tall spiral staircase, all the way back to the third-floor corridor.

For the briefest of moments, he flung a gaze towards the doors to the Infirmary, wondering if truly he did the right thing. He did need things to occur exactly the same the original timeline had, but to give Crouch…

Harry crushed the thought before it could blossom further. His decision was made. Dwelling on the past did little good.

Making his way back to the statue of the one-eyed witch, he tapped it with his wand, once again saying the activation. The stone hump opened at once, and Harry scrambled through, running down the ramp. Lighting his wand at the bottom, he started down the dark tunnel at a jog.

He had gone no more than thirty steps when he heard faint movement from up ahead. Immediately extinguishing the light emitting from his wand, Harry quickly cast a hearing enhancement charm.

At once, he heard the faint patters of rodents moving through the dirt, soil giving way as worms slithered through it and the echoes of footsteps on the ground above. What he heard most clearly, however, were boots trudging upon the damp ground of the tunnel, and voices.

"…telling you, I heard something," an unknown voice insisted.

"Could have been anything," a wry voice pointed out. "Maybe even your own footsteps."

"Quiet down!" a third, more authoritative voice hissed, "And keep your wands out! Who knows what Jenkins heard, but whoever this guy is, he uses Fiendfyre and attacks the elderly. He'll have little sympathy for the law."

"Shit, Aurors," Harry swore quietly under his breath. He had rushed the job at Honeydukes, and it hadn't been good enough. Another fucking mistake he could ill afford.

Canceling the hearing spell, Harry lit his wand, inspecting the tunnel. The earthen walls were barely six feet in width, making movement difficult. He could probably take out all three of the Aurors, but if any of their spells hit the tunnel itself, they ran the risk of a cave-in.

Regretfully, Harry turned back towards the entrance into Hogwarts. Reaching the ramp, he bounded up it, and re-entered the third-floor corridor. Halfway out of the hump, he turned and waved his wand, undoing his bit of transfiguration on the ramp, reverting it to its smooth texture.

Through the front door of Hogwarts it would have to be. Not the way he wanted to leave, but it would have to do.

Ducking out of the opening, he swung his gaze down the third-floor corridor, to see three figures staring at him from twenty feet down the hall, wands raised.

"I'd suggest lowering your wand," the deep, collected voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt recommended. Flanking him were two other members of the Order, Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle.

Almost unconsciously, Harry's lips pulled back into a feral snarl, crimson beginning to taint his vision. He couldn't afford yet another unexpected event eating up his dwindling remaining time.

At once, Diggle drew back, his eyes widening.

"By Merlin!" the diminutive man squeaked. "It's him, the wizard who broke into Gringotts!"

_"Stupefy!"_

Harry deftly sidestepped the pink-faced witch's Stunner, twisting his wand as he did so, before thrusting it forward. A clear spell spiraled forth from his wand. Kingsley raised a shield, but the colorless spell swerved by it, slamming into a suit of armor.

"Get down!" Kingsley ordered as the suit came to life, and swung out with its heavy spear. Hestia and Kingsley ducked under it, but the flat end of the spear caught Diggle in the chest, knocking him backwards. He fell hard upon the floor, rolling as he clutched his chest in pain.

Narrowing his dark eyes, Kingsley shot up, launching a Bludgeoner. Harry merely sidestepped it, before deflecting Hestia's Body-Bind back at her. She blocked the spell, before ducking, barely missing another swing by the animated suit of armor. Spinning around, Kingsley flung a Concussion Hex at the construct, causing it to fall to pieces.

Quickly, Harry thrust his wand at Hestia, before cutting it back across his body, making a full circle and ending at its original position. The black-haired witch blocked the first three spells of the chain, but the last, a Stunner, struck her in the chest, sending her tumbling to the ground.

As soon as the chain ended, Kingsley stepped behind the downed suit of armor, and cast a high-powered banisher. Harry replied with a Gravity Wall, killing the momentum of several pieces of armor mid-air. Swinging his wand to the side, Harry directed one the floating pieces into the way of Kingsley's blasting curse.

Both combatants quickly conjured physical shields, blocking out the rain of metal shrapnel. Harry, dropping his shield more quickly, flung a Hurricane Banisher, sending the entire set of armor swirling down the hallway. His wand still held aloft, Kingsley ducked, while angling the shield, letting the pieces collide off of the solid shield and go flying past him.

Dedalus Diggle, finally struggling to his feet, was stuck in the stomach by the flying helmet, knocking him back to the floor.

Whipping his wand to the side, Harry levitated a small end-table, and flung it at Kingsley. The Auror quickly dropped the physical shield, before conjuring a length of chain from his wand. Swinging it forward, he knocked the table out of the air, shattering the piece of furniture.

Kingsley began to swing the chain around, but Harry's cutter tore through it, rendering it useless. Vanishing the small remaining length, seeing a black spell heading towards him, Kingsley conjured a physical shield. Harry's Pepper Bomb exploded on contact with the shield, throwing out plumes of grayish smoke, which the Auror inhaled.

At once he began to violently cough, his eyes tearing and reddening.

"Run!" Kingsley croaked, before raising his wand upwards. Needing no invitation, Diggle began to stumble down the hall, away from the two combatants. Frantically, Harry began to animate another suit of armor, but the stone archway above him collapsed with a loud crash. Abandoning the animation, Harry brought his wand up, freezing the mass of falling stone in mid-air.

Occupied with holding the stone aloft, Harry saw Kingley fling a Stunner, pressing his advantage. Keeping his wand aloft, Harry spun around backwards, barely avoiding the crimson spell, before canceling the freezing spell.

For a moment, the chunks of stone began to fall, before Harry's Hurricane Banisher struck. Like a deadly hail, the stone flew down the hallway. His eyes widening, Kingsley quickly conjured another physical shield. Not given enough time to position the shield, a large piece slammed directly into the flat of the shield, throwing him backwards, skidding along the floor.

The Auror jumped shakily to his feet, just in time to deflect Harry's Disarmer, before cutting his wand back across his body, sending a body-bind into the wall. Walking forward, his wand a blur of movement, Harry continued to chain his spells, casting nearly continuously.

Stunner. Disarmer. Bludgeoner. Confundus. Body-Bind.

Faster and faster Kingsley's wand moved. Beads of perspiration dripped from his bald head as he frantically tried to keep up with Harry's rate of fire. On the eight spell, Kingsley swung too wide deflecting a spell, taking him off balance. Sensing victory, Harry watched as Kingsley just missed swatting away a stunner, taking the spell in his chest. The Auror immediately crumpled to the ground, his single gold earring gleaming in the torchlight.

Immediately, Harry began to sprint down the hallway, passing by Kingsley's unconscious form. If it were anyone else, he might have considered using heavier, potentially dangerous spells to save some time. However, Kingsley was probably the best wand, aside from Dumbledore, that the Order of the Phoenix had.

If Harry failed, Kingsley would prove vital to the war effort.

Vanishing the dust from his robes as he ran, Harry turned the corner, just in time to see a silvery shape pass by him. He rounded his wand on the form, but it didn't slow as it disappeared into a stone wall.

Unease beginning to creep in, Harry entered into a full-on sprint. Though he couldn't be one hundred percent sure, the silvery shape had looked suspiciously like an unformed Patronus. Most likely Diggle's.

He was sending out word to the Order.

At full speed he hit the main staircase, jumping the entire first landing in a single leap. He tumbled forward in a partially planned roll, before jumping up and repeating the process until he made it all the way to the ground floor.

A scant amount of students and adults cloistered about the main entryway, talking quietly. Reaching the bottom, a great deal of eyes turned in his direction, unease and wariness written upon most of the faces. With his wild hair and torn expensive robes, he must have made quite the sight.

They witches and wizards parted before him as he tore off through the main entryway. The silencing charms fading away, his boots clacked loudly upon the flagged stone as he sprinted towards the open doorway leading out into the courtyard. As he exited the school, into the dying rays of sunlight, his eyes took in all there was to see.

The courtyard was much more tightly packed, with large groups of students and adults talking excitedly about the upcoming Third Task. Standing at the base of the stairs, Harry's eyes widened as he saw the familiar form of Dedalus Diggle, talking excitedly to a crimson-robed Auror. His large purple hat askew, he gave a start at Harry's exit, before quickly raising his wand to his throat.

"That's him!" Diggle's squeaky voice exclaimed, amplified to fifty times its normal volume. "The guy who broke into Gringotts!"

X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X

_Directly after the fall of the Ministry, Grimmauld Place had become one of the last refuges in Britain safe from the tyranny of Voldemort's rule. Order members, supporters and their families had flocked to the door, and Harry had accepted them all._

_To compensate for the influx of residents, every available room had been upgraded to provide some sort of sleeping quarters. Even Regulus Black's old room had been pressed into service. _

_The large, well-furnished room had been stripped bare of all of Regulus' possessions, even the large Slytherin banner which had hung upon the wall. Twin dressers had been placed up against the center of the wall. Hugging each side of the bank of dressers, and extending all the way to the wall, leaving scant inches of space, was two full-size beds. _

_The bed on the right had discarded robes, socks and various undergarments strewn all about it, almost completely obscuring a crimson and gold bed cover. The debris of clothing stretched out onto the floor, under the bed, and even onto the dresser, even more scraps peeking out between partially open drawers. _

_Tacked to the L-shaped section of white plaster above the bed, so thick that it practically wallpapered the entire area, where hundreds upon hundreds of photos. The majority of the photos showed a black-haired girl with long bangs and a prominent chin smiling wide. They showed her eternally picking a daisy from the ground, and placing it behind her ears. Another showed her eyes dart around back and forth, before giving a devilish smile, and lifting up her shirt to reveal a lace-trimmed crimson bra. _

_Despite Colin Creevey's proclivity for taking pictures, there were a few of him and his girlfriend, Romilda. One at the center had both her and Colin, bobbing drunkenly, cheering as they held up matching bottles of Firewhiskey. _

_The other side of the room was a complete antithesis of the disorder that Colin and Romilda waded in. The bed, with a cream-colored cover, was crisply made, the pillows stacked immaculately. Every one of the drawers on the left side was shut tightly, no articles of clothing poking out, and nothing stacked atop the dresser. _

_In a single large photograph, hanging framed above the bed, smiled Zacharias Smith and his then-wife, Su Li, clinging to each other tightly. Love shone clearly in their eyes. _

_In a sense, Harry couldn't help but think of it all as taunting mementos to an age lost. Of the four, only Zacharias remained. Su had been one of the first to die, being killed during the first attacks on Diagon Alley. Zacharias had abruptly moved out of the room, prone to long stretches of disappearances, using every waking moment to hunt the ones responsible for Su's death. Only his hatred had kept him going. _

_Colin had been devastated by Romilda's death by friendly fire, a stupid mistake that still bothered him to this day, but the small, blonde young man had held it together until Harry's last encounter with Voldemort, deep beneath the Fens. His hope drained, suicide had been his only reprieve._

_They had never complained about their close quarters, none of them, not even once. With such divergent styles of living, Harry would have thought the living arrangement would cause problems, but in dark times, they had banded together._

_And Harry had let them all down._

_With a sigh, Harry sat down on the cleaner of the two beds, putting his head in his hands. Seeing reminders of his failures was never an easy thing. He probably would have never set foot again in the room, had not Croaker requested that Harry meet him up there._

_Conversing deeply with the ghosts of friends long since departed, Harry was caught unawares by the opening of the bedroom door. It admitted the wild-eyed Croaker, wand held aloft. Waving it once, he cast a Revealing Spell._

"_You requested a meeting alone, didn't you?" Harry asked, displeased by the man's actions. _

_The former Unspeakable shook his head, further disrupting his unruly nest of white hair. _

"_You never know who might be trying to listen," the elderly man replied, his eyes continuing to dart about the room. _

"_That's quite enough of that," Harry snapped, his voice rising in volume, before raising a hand, his middle three fingers extended. "There are three other people in this house, all of which I trust more than you, Martin. Believe me, I'm tempted to tell them everything I learn today."_

"_You can't!" Croaker insisted, shaking his head again._

"_Why not? You didn't seem to have any argument ready when I told you the Extractor probably wouldn't work. Why not tell them? What could I possibly tell them at this point that could be any worse than that?"_

_As opposed to answering, Croaker began to nervously pace about the small room, his head down, his hands grasped behind his back. Stopping, he fixed his wide gaze upon Harry._

"_Even if the Extractor works, and you end up both finding and killing Voldemort, what then? Would this world truly be any better off?"_

_Harry let out a derisive snort._

"_You have to ask me whether a world with or without Voldemort would be any better?"_

"_So if Voldemort was gone, you'd still bring a child into this world?" challenged Croaker. _

_Harry stayed silent for a moment, frustrated that he'd been so easily led by Croaker's questioning, and well aware of the truth of the matter. There were so few people left in Britain, the devastation so rampant, that there was barely any magical society left to speak of. What few remained not only had to deal with the tattered remnants of the Death Eaters, but with Muggle military forces. Caught in the crossfire between the different sects of Wizarding society, the Muggles had decided to fight back._

_With devastating results. _

_Though Harry was loathe to admit it, even if Voldemort was defeated, the war would continue until nothing of Britain remained. _

"_Fine, I wouldn't," admitted Harry between clenched teeth. "But what the fuck does it matter? I'm not going to walk away from this, it'd be an insult to every person that gave their lives to destroy that bastard and his pawns."_

"_They followed you willingly," Croaker gently pointed out. "That's besides the point, though. It matters because I can give you the chance to go back and prevent the war from happening in the first place."_

_Harry could only stare at the elderly wizard, wondering if the cheese had finally slid off Croaker's cracker. _

"_What the bloody hell are you talking about?"_

"_I'm talking about hope. You are aware that Miss Granger was given a Time-Turner during her third year, correct?"_

_A scowl immediately settled over Harry's face._

"_That wouldn't do us much good," he sourly stated. "Even if you somehow developed a Time-Turner that went back further than a few days, whatever happened, happened. You can't go back in time to fix a mistake. It's either intractable, or the traveler is the one that causes the problem in the first place."_

_Harry should know. After Dumbledore's death, he had spent far too much time thinking about what he would change it given the opportunity. _

_Surprisingly, rather than looking put-out by Harry's certainty, the former Unspeakable grinned widely. _

"_So, you've known people who have traveled back into the past?"_

"_I've used a Time-Turner before, Martin. When you use it, the outcome is already determined."_

"_That's funny," Croaker replied, crossing his arms. "According to Hermione, the two of you were successfully able to save Sirius Black from the kiss of the Dementors. Do you think he would have escaped without your help?"_

_Retorts immediately rose in Harry's mind, but he swallowed them, considering Croaker's words. _

"_Picture the Time-Turner as a raindrop falling upon the ocean, Harry. However negligible, a raindrop has impact when it strikes the surface, albeit in a small, localized area, all with no discernable effect upon the rest of the ocean. Picture time as being this ocean. What would happen if an asteroid fell instead of a raindrop?"_

"_You'd destroy the world," answer Harry, crossing his arms._

"_Perhaps," Croaker conceded, "But it's all conjecture at this point. At the very least, you'd be able to make widespread changes, which would have lasting effects."_

"_Destroying the universe won't solve many of our problems."_

"_The concept of a paradox is a theory, not fact. Regardless, say it wipes the slate clean, thus destroying this world, as if it never existed. Is there truly much here left to save?"_

_Ginny, his Ginny, immediately sprang to mind, the sole bright spot in his life since the summer he turned seventeen. This was bigger than him, though. All the friends, family and allies that not only he had lost, but every innocent person that had fallen victim to this endless war._

"_It's a moot point," Harry claimed, side-stepping the question. "If we had the ability to travel back in time, why wasn't it used? We saw the world crumbling around us years ago, saw where it was heading."_

"_There are obvious risks involved. I may not be concerned by the idea of a paradox, but that didn't mean my colleagues weren't."_

"_What kind of risks?" _

_Croaker raised a single bushy white eyebrow._

"_Look," Harry said with a sigh. "I still don't believe that the Unspeakables made a time machine, but if we had the chance to save everyone…I'd be a fool if I didn't at least listen."_

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At Diggle's amplified shout, the groups of mingling people broke off from conversation, looking around with equal parts confusion and fear.

Before the echo had even faded, Harry leapt the front stairs, landing on the flagged stone at the bottom. A poorly aimed Stunner flew almost six feet above his head as he folded into the crowd, ducking between two young women.

"Where is he?" the shorter one asked before jumping in the air, a vain attempt to scan the crowd.

"He's over there!" Harry announced theatrically, pointing somewhere off to his left. In the wake of turning heads and gasps, he threaded his way deeper into the crowd, steadily making his way towards the road leading out of Hogwarts.

Without warning, a heavy, calloused hand fell upon his shoulder, squeezing it tightly.

"Where do ye think ye're going?" a deep male voice asked.

In a single movement, Harry grabbed the arm with his left hand and spun around. Raising the arm upwards, the tall, bear-like man was forced to one knee, letting out a growl of pain.

"Keep quiet if you want to keep your arm!" Harry hissed, but his warning came too late. At once, people began to flee from Harry, creating an open space in the middle of the crowd.

"Fuck!" swore Harry, seeing a crimson-robed Auror emerge from the crowd, wand drawn.

"Let him go," an older female Auror ordered, her weathered face grim. Turning his body slightly, Harry forced his prisoner to the right, blocking the Auror's line of sight. As he did, he saw her eyes widen slightly, at a point behind Harry's shoulder.

At once, Harry raised his arm up, forcing the man to his feet, before kicking his foot straight out, the sole connecting squarely with the man's back. Unprepared for the blow, he sprawled forward, directly into the approaching Auror, taking her out. Whipping his body around, Harry launched a lightning-quick Disarmer.

The red light slammed into the chest of an approaching Samaritan. With a look of shock, visions of glory vanishing in an instant, the man's wand was dislodged as he was blown back into a group of older students, knocking down the bunch of them.

Feeling movement behind him, Harry swung back with his left elbow. It met something hard, which yielded at the impact with a loud crunch. Her eyes clouding over, blood beginning to drip from her shattered nose, the female Auror fell backwards. Without a look back, Harry darted forward to the edges of the clearing, the dull thud of her body striking the ground filling his ears.

People fled from his approach, trampling over one another in a desperate effect to get away from him. They parted like the Red Sea before him, creating an avenue of clearance. Screams echoing in his ears, Harry took advantage of it, sprinting as hard as he could.

"Stop!"

Chancing a look back over his shoulder, Harry saw several crimson-robed figures push shove their way through the crowd, wands leveled at him. Facing his attention back forward, Harry snapped his wand back, conjuring a magical shield. Harry felt the impact of several spells bounce off it as he dug deep, forcing himself to run faster.

The crowd beginning to thin, Harry risked dropping his shield, before transfiguring the ground behind him into ice. He then quickly re-applied the shield, just in time to deflect another spell. A small, satisfied smile crept onto his face as he heard the unmistakable cursing and thuds that accompanied slipping on ice.

Putting distance between himself and the Aurors, Harry's feet left the flagged stones, and met the hard dirt of the road which ran around the lake, all the way to the gatehouse.

The edge of the Hogwarts Anti-Apparation Wards.

The end would have come far more quickly had he not lost his broom in the Gringotts lobby, but with no other recourse, Harry continued to run. The ripples of the great lake lapped gently at the shore on his left, while spectators surrounded the site of the Third Task, apparently unaware that a fugitive was fleeing the grounds.

Harry's breath burned slightly in his chest, the borrowed body apparently not used to running long distances, but he forced himself on with a ruthless abandon forged from years of fighting.

Conjuring a small mirror, he held it up with his left hand as he ran. In it he saw the small group of Aurors falling further behind, the icy floor holding them up far more than he could have every hoped for. Nearly two hundred feet separating them, Harry saw one of the figures in the lead desperately slung a Stunner at him. He didn't even have to try to avoid it, as the poorly aimed spell passed by him on his left, splashing into the water.

Safe passage to the gatehouse beginning to seem like a certainty, a tremor ripped through Harry's body. Beginning to sweat violently, he tried to block out the inevitable.

"Fuck," swore Harry as his skin began to bubble unpleasantly. He had known there hadn't been enough Polyjuice to last an hour, but didn't expect it to run out this shortly. As he grew slightly in stature, his body morphing back into its former hard musculature, he kept moving towards the gatehouse, his teeth gritted.

The pressure mounting in his body, his skin re-arranging itself, it became too much. With a growl of frustration, Harry stumbled forward, the mirror falling from his slack fingers. He thrashed on the ground for a moment, before the transformation ended, reverting Harry back to his scarred body.

At once he grabbed the mirror and jumped back up, continuing his former pace. Slight pain radiated from his stomach, the exertion of running pulling at the roughly healed wound. Glimpsing back into the mirror, Harry saw that the pursuing Aurors had stopped in their tracks, each one either bent over breathlessly, or hands upon their hips.

Harry's ease of mind evaporated upon seeing four figures emerge from behind the group of winded Aurors. Fifteen feet above the dirt road they flew, crimson robes streaming behind them as they rushed towards him.

Shite.

At once, Harry turned around, backpedaling with his wand held aloft. The four approaching Aurors flew in a loose, staggered formation, eliminating the possibility of being taken out with a single spell. They wasted no time in drawing their wands, and beginning to rain spell fire as they grew closer.

Harry snapped off a quick Concussion Hex, before raising a sturdy magical shield. The middle two fliers immediately pulled up, letting the impact from the blast assist their movements, rather than fight it. They were only deterred for a moment, before continuing to cast.

His shield was more than equal to their spells, harmlessly bouncing off like toddlers trying to tackle an adult. Seeing a Shield Breaker mixed in among the spells, Harry dropped his own shield for the briefest of moments, before re-applying it, letting the breaker pass through. He easily deflected the last of the flurry as the Aurors flew by him, each pair of eyes angry and determined.

Spinning, he saw the middle two fliers perform neat turns in mid-air, while the two on the outside performed wide turns, intending to rush him from three different directions. With satisfaction, Harry noted that the Auror to his left had flown over the lake.

Moving as quickly as he could, Harry cut his wand across his body in a series of complicated arcs. At once, a giant tentacle four feet in diameter rose forth from the lake. Fish and various other sea life still swimming within the watery construct, it lashed out at the flier. The impact knocked the rider backwards off his broom, sending him splashing heavily into the lake.

At once, Harry conjured another magical shield, letting his transfigured tentacle slide back into the lake. It deflected the first volley of spells from the incoming Aurors, sending them into the dirt. Backing away slightly to improve the angle of his shield against the two-headed attack, he tracked every spell carefully, until the tell-tale crimson of a Disarmer appeared.

He quickly dropped the shield, before rolling in the dirt. Two spells barely missed him, throwing up dirt and bits of sods as they dug into the earth. Jumping back up, ignoring the unpleasant tugging in his stomach, Harry thrust his wand forward, the tip connecting directly with the incoming Disarmer.

He struck the Kinetic Re-direct perfectly dead-on, the spell flying back at the Auror ten times faster than it arrived. In barely a blink, the Auror was blown backwards off his broom, hitting the ground with an audible crunch. Neatly catching the Auror's wand, Harry began to sprint forward, making for the fallen broom.

The two remaining Aurors passed by him, before swinging around and chasing him. They launched spells nearly continuously, impacting off his magical shield. Quickly glancing over his shoulder, he saw that they were pressing hard, coaxing all speed they could from their brooms. In their haste to prevent him from picking up their colleagues' broom, they had broken formation, flying close together.

His own magical shield held aloft, Harry reached the fallen broom. He made as it to reach for it, before swinging out with the Auror's wand. At once, a physical shield popped into existence, directly in front of the Aurors. They barely had time to widen their eyes before they slammed into the construct at full speed.

Both brooms immediately snapped, pitching their riders into the air. Limbs flailing as they fell, Harry snapped out with two quick Stunners, picking them out of the air, before casting two cushioning charms. Not bothering to watch their landing, Harry tossed away the Auror's wand, before picking up the broom.

It was a Cleansweep Five. Nothing special, but it would get him out of here far faster than running would, and with significantly less damage to his patched stomach. Quickly mounting the broom, Harry rocketed forward, heading straight towards the gatehouse. With another broom in hand, his next objective would be far easier.

A mere fifty feet from the stone structure of the gatehouse, a figure appeared in a flash of fire. Wearing bright purple robes, the figure's bright blue eyes blazed as it beheld Harry's approaching form, a bright red phoenix perched upon its shoulder.

Dumbledore!

The hand holding the Elder Wand beginning to move, they locked gazes, bright blue meeting bright green. Dumbledore's eyes widened perceptibly, surprised reflected in them, stilling the motion in his arm.

It was only a half-second of hesitation, but it was all Harry needed.

Urging even more speed from the broom, he flew over the gatehouse, soaring above Dumbledore. The air began to grow heavy with magic as he did, as if lightning was about to strike.

Not having a desire to cross wands with Dumbledore, Harry apparated in mid-air. A tremendous pain ripped through Harry's body as he disappeared, an ear-splitting crack left in his wake.

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Author Notes:

Too often in time-travel stories, nostalgia overwhelms Harry upon his return trip to Hogwarts, weighing down the narrative in angsty exposition. I tried to avoid that in his chapter, still keeping the focus upon Harry's quest, with the ever-moving clock hanging above his head.

Two full chapters, plus an epilogue are all that remain in this story. I don't know when the next chapter will come. I've got a one-shot that should be ready in two weeks, and after that I'm probably going to work on chapter 2 of 'Ouroboros'. Beyond that, who knows? Perhaps reader response could influence this (hint hint).

Thanks to Liron-Aria for her hard work beta-work on the chapter.

Any comments or questions shall receive a reply. I very much enjoy feedback, as it serves to inspire my muse. Even a simple "liked it" or "it sucked" is usually enough to coerce me back to the computer, as opposed to continue playing Dead Space 2. My replies have been slow as of late, due to the business of life, but I'll eventually catch up.

DLP Thanks:

Blaise, The Berkeley Hunt, mknote, rand32085, Palurien, knight504, animekingmike


	8. XI: The Eleventh Hour

The Unforgiving Minute

XI: The Eleventh Hour

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**21:00**

A gasp of pain escaping his lips, Harry appeared in the darkened woods, deep agony ripping through the lower portion of his right leg. He fell heavily to the ground, onto a thick, spongy bed of rotting leaves and pine needles.

With a grunt of pain, he rolled onto his back, and raised his right leg, to see that everything from the shin down was missing.

"Fucking hell!" he growled, slamming his fists upon the ground. It had been fucking idiotic to apparate at such high speeds, as he had been on the broom, but with Dumbledore in the immediate vicinity, what choice did he have?

Harry had no illusions: Right now, he was one of the best duelists in Europe, more than a match for any Death Eater, nearly the Dark Lord's equal in overall skill…

All of which meant nothing against Dumbledore, who could probably mop the floor with him. He was well aware that he was lucky to have escaped Hogwarts, but had paid a steep price for it. For the first time, genuine fear began to penetrate his hardened mental defenses.

Not because of his missing foot, but at the recognition Harry had seen reflected in Dumbledore's brilliant blue eyes. How much did he suspect? How much did he know?

Most of all…

Did the Headmaster have any idea what he was planning?

"Fuck it," spat Harry. He couldn't start to worry about things he no longer had control over, as they would make his task even more difficult than it already was. Reaching down the front of his robes, he withdrew the brass pocket-watch.

The hour hand of the watch was ahead of the tenth digit by a fraction of an inch. Correcting for the hour offset with the actual time…

It was five minutes past nine.

Back at Hogwarts, Ludo Bagman's whistle had already sounded, heralding the beginning of the Third Task, urging the contestants forward into the maze of greenery. As the Champions made their way through the darkness, Barty Crouch Jr. would be waiting, clearing the path as best he could so Harry could reach the Triwizard Cup first.

Tucking the watch back into his robes, his leg still burning with pain, he heard movement close to him. Drawing his wand in a single fluid motion, he quickly conjured a physical shield. No sooner had the grey shield popped into existence, something heavy smashed down upon it, driving Harry deeper into the pile of leaves.

The pressure eased for a moment, before a long, drawn-out hiss echoed into the night air. At once, the force struck downward again, driving him even deeper into the ground, walls of leaves, needles and rot beginning to enclose him.

Taking a deep breath, Harry apparated as soon as the crushing weight lifted, landing fifteen feet from his original spot. Momentarily forgetting that he only had one foot to stand on, he tumbled to the ground. For a single moment, he saw a large green viper, its body as thick as a man's thigh. Whirling around, it abandoned the physical shield, slithering towards him, yellow eyes locked upon Harry. With movements as quick as lightning, it slithered up to him, snapping its jaws down.

The poisonous fangs just missed Harry, who quickly apparated away. Landing, using a nearby tree to brace himself, he quickly slung a silencing spell, striking Nagini. The giant snake immediately fell silent as she advanced, long tongue flicking through the air. Her movements were cautions, wary, the viper well aware that its prey was not the easy meal she had envisioned, and more than capable of defending itself.

Without warning, Harry began to wave his wand in a complicated fashion, the narrow stick of wood cutting through the air swiftly. Seeing his movements, Nagini rocketed forward, only to have one of the weathered branches on an ancient tree bend downward, wrapping itself around the snake's tail.

Nagini let out an entirely silent hiss of annoyance, before twisting back and snapping at the branch wrapped around her tail. The sharp fangs split through the decaying wood, splinters flying outward, nearly severing the branch. Opening her mouth, Nagini went to strike again, only to have a second branch descend and clamp down around her neck. The serpentine body thrashed violently, but could not squirm out of the wooden grasp.

Stretching his arm wide, both of the branches followed his command, snapping back in opposite directions. Nagini was torn roughly in two. For a moment, both ends hung from the branches, dripping blood and entrails onto the ground, before the tree relinquished its grip.

Both halves hit the ground with a loud thud, throwing up leaves. While the bottom half remained still, cut off from the nervous system, the top continued to thrash wildly, the snake hissing in agony, spraying droplets of dark blood everywhere from its severed stump. Quickly, Harry cut his wand in a downward motion.

At once, a thick branch swung down like a sledgehammer, directly upon Nagini's skull. With an earthy crunch it struck, smearing Nagain's head against the ground, instantly stilling her movements. The bloodstained, cracked branch rose back into the air quickly, the tree forming back into its original, pre-animated form. Left behind was the snake's shattered skull, blood and brain matter leaking from beneath the green scales.

Leaning up against a tree, Harry let out a deep, heavy breath. He had known that Nagini had been out hunting during the night of the resurrection, but didn't expect to practically appear atop Voldemort's most cherished pet.

It had certainly been close, but it was about fucking time something finally went his way. The law of averages practically demanded it.

"Five horcruxes down," Harry whispered to himself.

The end was near.

Holding his right leg up in the air, he casually transfigured a pile of leaves into a mass of molten silver. Manipulating the gleaming glob in mid-air, he directed it towards his stump. The fusing process hurt like hell, but at least he'd finally be able to stand properly.

With a wince, he finished fusing the foot. It was a twin to his remaining one in appearance, save for the skin tone and lack of hair. Flexing it, he found that it responded to his movements with ease, even if the increased weight did throw off his balance slightly.

Voldemort may have been a bastard of the highest order, but he was certainly a creative bastard, and Harry wasn't above a little flattery.

Taking off his remaining boot, he replicated it with a quick spell. Quickly re-lacing his boots, he moved towards the edge of the woods, glancing outwards.

At the top of the hill, just visible beneath the starlight, was Riddle Manor. In the scant light, it looked like every bit the haunted house the locals claimed it was. Shingles barely clung to the roof, while ivy had begun to wind its way up the weathered stone.

Right now, as he watched, Wormtail could have been making the final preparations for the ritual. He could be levitating the cauldron out to the graveyard right now, preparing the potions for the Resurrection Ritual.

In the space of a few minutes, Harry knew he could kill Wormtail and disable Voldemort. How easy it would all be, too. Wormtail was no match for him.

With great difficulty, he tore his eyes away from the large home. He had no choice in the matter: Voldemort needed to be saved for last.

The horcruxes were his priority.

Regret tearing at him, conjuring forth the shadows of doubt, Harry apparated away.

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"_To Hermione!" thundered the four people holding aloft a smoking shot of Firewhiskey each, before throwing them all back._

_Hermione, her belly large with her child, merely shook her head and smiled indulgently at the toast. Zacharias, his normally pale cheeks pink, his smile lopsided, gently draped one of his arms over her shoulders._

"_No more lonely night for you, eh Smith?" Ginny said with an impish smile, drawing a laugh from the group. Hermione feigned righteous indignation for a moment, before a chuckle broke through the half-hearted façade. _

"_To an end to lonely nights!" Harry said cheerfully, raising the bottle of Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey. Immediately Croaker, Ginny and Smith raises their glasses, which Harry filled with enthusiasm, before topping his own off. _

"_I'll drink to that for the entire rest of the week," Zacharias slurred, beginning to cross over from merely drunk to completely obliterated, drawing a further laugh from the crowd. _

"_In fact," the blond continued, turning his head towards Harry, "I think you should use it tonight, just so I know for sure I've got my woman back for good."_

_At once, the gazes drifted over to the mantle of the fireplace in the dining room. Atop the marble platform stood a clear crystal vial, which contained a frothy green potion. It had taken Hermione and Croaker, with the occasional assistance from the other three occupants of the house, five months to create, and far too many sleepless nights to count, but they had finally done it. _

_The Extractor was complete. _

"_Drink it! Drink it! Drink it!"_

_Zacharias may have started it, but Ginny and Croaker picked up the chant almost immediately._

"_Drink it! Drink it! Drink it!"_

_Zacharias and Ginny began to pound their hands on the table, in unison to the chant, causes plates, silverware and glasses to jump up and down on the table. _

"_Drink it! Drink it! Drink it!"_

_Harry, a wide, almost forced grin stretching from ear to ear, waved his hands in the air, pleading for order. Reluctantly, Ginny and Zacharias stopped, As they did, Harry walked towards Hermione. Raising his hands, he put each of his hands on either side of her face, feeling her warmth._

_The bushy-haired witch regarded him with slight surprise with her honey-colored eyed as Harry leaned in, delivering a small kiss to her lips._

"_I can't think you enough for all you've done," he said, holding her gaze. Slightly embarrassed, she tried to wave him off, but he shook his head. "I'm serious. You've worked yourself to the bone, all while carrying that heavy tike in your belly."_

"_You're not kidding," she said with a slightly grimace, placing her hands over the swell of her midsection. _

"_So, tonight, we celebrate; forget the worries of the past few years. Tomorrow we can start anew, but tonight I think we all deserve to savor our victory."_

_Hearty cheers met his declaration, before increasing in frequency as he held the bottle aloft. _

"_What, Martin doesn't get a kiss too?" Ginny said with a laugh as Harry refilled her glass._

"_Oh no!" the elderly wizard exclaimed vehemently, shaking his head from side to side. "I am quite alright, thank you!" _

_Ginny, her brown eyes dancing with mischief immediately darted her head forward. Her red lips smacked loudly upon Croaker's, before she broke it, laughing hysterically. Harry, Hermione and Zacharias immediately let out wolf-whistles, causing Croaker to bury his head in his hands. _

"_Now, none of that," Ginny scolded, drawing herself up, doing a passable impersonation of her mother, before bursting out laughing again, downing her shot of Firewhiskey. _

_Unseen the rest of the party, Harry subtly Vanished the Firewhiskey before it passed down his throat. With every pretend laugh, with every word spoken, with every glance exchanged, guilt ate at him._

_In less than twelve hours they would all hate him. _

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Harry arrived a mere half-mile from his original apparation point, on a narrow dirt lane with a steep grade. A thick hedgerow on his right closely hugged the road. Hundreds of feet below, the small village of Little Hangleton dreamt, only a few solitary lamps burning in the night.

He jogged forward a short distance, until the lane curved away to the right. Seeing a narrow gap in the hedge, he stepped through. Branches and brambles pulled at his robes but he shrugged them off, coming out onto a narrow dirt track.

The grass and weeds grew wild on the path, almost up to his waist. The hedgerows grew tight on either side of him, eerily reminding him of where his younger counterpart was at the exact moment. In a few more years, the path would probably close completely.

Following the downward grade, the track opened up into a small clearing. In the dark of the night sat the Gaunts' cottage, nearly completely cloaked by the tall trees. Casually casting a light-amplification spell on his eyes, he surveyed the decrepit home.

Black moss had long since replaced the mortar in the foundation, as though the bricks and wooden walls themselves had sprouted from the earth, growing intertwined with the ivy that covered it. Nearly all of the roofing tiles had been dislodged, the rotting rafters beneath poking through like exposed ribs. Nettles grew high around the squat building, completely obscuring the entrance.

Harry expected to hear the chirping of crickets, the cry of the nocturnal predator, but aside from the wind, he heard nothing in the clearing. No signs of life. Without question, it was here.

Inside the overgrown home hid Slytherin's ring, the last of the Founder's artifacts.

The ring was the horcrux Harry had always been the most wary about, even more so than Hufflepuff's Cup. He hadn't the faintest idea what sort of protections cloaked the ring, never having asked Dumbledore how he retrieved it.

Instinctively, he withdrew the golden pocket-watch, to find that ten minutes had passed since he had last checked, right before being attacked by Nagini.

Forty-five minutes remained in the eleventh hour.

Tucking the pocket-watch back into his robes, he closed his eyes as he began to pull in deep, slow breaths. The physical sensations of the warm night air buffeting against his skin, the gentle rustle of the wind stirring the trees, and every other physical sensation began to fade to the background, as if deemed unimportant by his brain.

Reaching out with his mind, he began to feel the subtle breath of magic, before he inhaled, widening the range of his perceptions. It was like drinking milk left for hours in the sun.

The cottage thrummed with dark, vile energy, a blight upon the clearing, like a rotting teeth inside a healthy mouth, and Harry could no longer consider anything about the cottage to be natural. The very idea was as foreign and sickly as the horcrux's signature.

Withdrawing from his state of heightened magical consciousness, he saw that the last strings of the dusk had been cut, giving way completely to night. Thrusting his wand forward, he sliced it in a low arc. A wide, invisible scythe cut through the nettles, while the follow-up Banisher cleared the greenery from the front of the house.

The small windows were completely dark, devoid of glass, yet hinted nothing of the interior of the home. A wooden door, hanging halfway out of the frame, leaned drunkenly in the doorway. With a simple wave of his wand, he summoned it, before tossing it off to the side.

The empty doorway loomed like the maw of some unholy beast, the windows its gaping eyes. Even with the light-amplification spell, pure darkness lay beyond the threshold. Wand at the ready, Harry stepped into the black unknown.

The night seemed to still as Harry crossed the threshold of the abandoned home, as if holding its breath. Standing right inside the doorway he stopped and listened, ears straining. Aside from the thudding of his heart, and the roar of blood in his ears, silence reigned within.

Canceling the light-amplification spell, he quickly thrust his wand forward, conjuring a dull globe a foot across, levitating it in the air. Bit-by-bit, a marginal yellow glow began to emit from it, stinging against the extreme dilation of his pupils. As it brightened, chasing the shadows out of sight, he floated it into the center of the room, where it hovered, slowly illuminating it.

Harry found himself in a room that only vaguely resembled the one he had seen in Dumbledore's pensieve during his sixth year. Little remained of the kitchen and living room combination the Gaunt family had made use of.

The armchair that had merely been ratty over fifty years ago was completely covered in mold and rotting to pieces. The black stove to his right was completely covered in filth and rust. Littered upon the floor were rusted, fading husks of what may once have been cookware, the shelf holding them having completely disintegrated.

Random cracks and splits marred the thin, stained wooden flooring. The boards creaked beneath his feet as he took another step into the newly-lighted cottage. Gazing around, he mused that a Curse-Breaker could probably be in and out in five minutes, but Ancient Runes and Arithmancy had always been beyond him.

His Transfiguration, however, was as sharp as ever.

Waving his wand in a complicated arc, the creaky, rotting floorboards below him began to fade away, as if becoming insubstantial. He could still feel the pressure of his boots upon the warped slats of wood; he had just increased their transparency. The light from the globe passed through the wraith-like planks, revealing nothing but pockmarked dirt.

"Accio ring," he said firmly, his eyes watchful. Unlike his trip to the cave with Dumbledore, his incantation had no visible effect.

Hadn't the Headmaster said that the Horcrux was located beneath the floorboards?

With a heavy sigh, Harry resigned himself to the idea that the retrieval of Slytherin's ring wasn't going to be easy.

Swinging his wand around, he pointed it at one of the misshapen, rotted pots. At once, it began to shift, the mottled brown lightening in shade. Like liquid it flowed, forming into the shape of a white rabbit, which immediately began to hop around the floor. The inanimate-to-animate transformation complete, Harry cast a compulsion upon the rabbit.

Under his control, the rabbit stood still as Harry carefully levitated it through one of the fissures in the floor near the far wall. Starting with the outer perimeter of the foundation, he directed the animal in a square spiral, working towards the middle.

As the rabbit reached the center of the dark earth, he felt an immense, crippling terror flood through the animal's thoughts, before his mental connection was severed. A single high-pitched squeal of terror cut through the room before being silenced as the earth beneath the floor exploded upwards. The flying soil obscured his sight for a moment. By the time it fell, the rabbit had disappeared from sight, leaving behind only a few tufts of white, fluffy fur.

"Shite."

For a moment, Harry cursed Dumbledore's penchant for understatement. Perhaps Slytherin's ring was located just beneath the floorboards, but it was far more involved that he had originally guessed.

Noting the exact spot where the rabbit had vanished, he shifted the floating yellow globe, placing it directly above. The globe bobbed slightly from the movement, but stayed stationary, effectively marking the site. Pointing his wand down, he waved it above the transparent floorboards.

Unlike his trip to Honeydukes, the air remained inert, devoid of glowing lines. The check had come back negative. There were no wards on or around the cottage.

Whatever was hidden in the dirt was sentient. As opposed to wards, Voldemort was using a guardian to protect the horcrux.

Thinking back to his sixth-year journey to the cave, he recalled that while wards were an integral part of the locket's defense, the main threat had been the Inferi hidden beneath the lake.

As much as Harry would like to think that it was Inferi hiding beneath the cabin, he highly doubted it. Whatever had snatched the rabbit was large, as the displacement of dirt had indicated.

"Fucking hell," he swore, running a hand through his hair, before taking a few careful steps backward, placing him just outside the cottage. Beginning to wave his wand around, he began to peel back the floor, levitating the rotting boards into one of the other rooms, stacking the slats atop one another. Piece-by-piece he tore apart the entire interior section of the floor, leaving only a narrow perimeter of walking space two feet wide. Aside from the small depression in the ground directly below the globe, he saw no other anomalies.

A single, deep breath was pulled through his mouth and out his nose, mentally preparing himself for anything. Carefully, he levitated the rotting chair at the rear of the room. Reaching the marked spot, he cancelled the spell, letting it fall to the dirt below.

It struck the dirt lightly, before falling to pieces, the end of its lifespan at hand. Wand at the ready, he was prepared for anything to happen.

Silence.

Dead quiet, with not even the smallest of stirrings from within the depths of the soil, was his only reply.

His teeth still on edge, he levitated one of the heavier, more well-preserved floorboards into the center of the floor, before dropping it.

There was still no reaction.

So why did a smaller object attract attention, and the chair and plank draw nothing?

Mystified, Harry brought his wand down, and began to tap his foot upon the ground. What did the rabbit possess that the other objects did not?

Moments after his feet the earth, a great rumble began to resonate from below the ground. Without thinking, he instinctively flung a Banisher at the ground, lifting him in the air. As soon as he left his feet, the earth exploded beneath him, throwing up dirt and small rocks. Throwing his glance downwards, his heart skipped a beat.

The creature below him was perhaps three feet wide. Eyeless, a large maw took its entire front, with rows of razor-sharp, dirt-stained teeth crowding around the outside edge. Rising up out of the ground, it snapped at his feet, missing by mere inches. Closing its mouth again, Harry saw that its body was segmented, made up of purple rings mottled with brown.

Its bite missing his foot, it quickly sunk back into the ground, burrowing back into the dirt.

Reaching the apex of his leap, as he fell he whipped his wand upwards, conjuring a length of chain. It flew out from his wand, wrapping around a sturdy upper branch of the nearest tree. Right before he hit the ground, he wrapped left hand tightly around the steel links, before jabbing his wand at the conjured link.

As the ground erupted once more, the animated chain began to pull itself upwards, jerking his body roughly. Snapping at his heel, the giant worm rose up from the ground, following his ascent. Whipping his wand down, Harry screamed at the monstrosity.

"_Avada kedavra!"_

The killing curse leapt from his wand, striking the worm directly in the center of its mouth, but the green light didn't even slow the worm as it rose higher. Bringing his other hand to the chain, he used his arms for support to lift up his legs, just barely missing getting his right foot bitten off. The worm followed him for another few feet, before stopping.

Fifteen feet in the air, the creature swayed slightly, its massive ringed body moving from side to side. Suspended over the worm, Harry commanded the chain to stop pulling, and let down his legs, his entire body aching with exertion from fighting gravity.

As he watched, the worm slid back into the ground, causing Harry to let out a deep, shuddering breath. It was bad enough to deal with a giant killer worm, but a giant killer fucking Inferi worm?

Releasing his wand hand from the chain, Harry scrambled to think of how he was going to handle the worm. Though it was undead, it probably still functioned like a normal worm. It heard his footsteps on the ground, and attacked, as it did for the rabbit, but not for the chair or the plank. It could probably tell the difference in cadence between inanimate objects and living begins. Which meant-

Harry never got the chance to finish the thought, as the tree to which the chain was wrapped around began to shake violently, causing him to swing in the air. At once, the soil broke again, rising up. He began to bring his wand around, but stopped as he saw the worm bend back slightly, before surging forward. Its large maw opening and closing, it began to chew upon the tree, sending splinters flying outwards.

Conceding that perhaps the Inferi worm was smarter than the garden variety worm, Harry whipped his wand down, conjuring a long whip of fire. The coil of fire swung downwards, searing through the purplish hide with minimal resistance. It split the worm open, spilling black ichor from the wound. For a moment, the worm reared back, before slamming its mouth into the tree. With an almighty crack the trunk split, causing the top half of the tree to lean drunkenly backwards. For a moment, he was weightless, before the tree began to fall backwards. Hurriedly, he tried to apparate away, only to find that something held him in place, preventing him from doing so.

The Anti-Apparation wards were up! How?

The weight of hundreds of branches falling down upon him, he let go of the chain and whipped his wand downwards, flinging a Cushioning Charm. As he fell the final few feet, he Vanished the branches above him, before hitting the soft, yielding ground. The rest of the tree fell around him with a colossal bang, like an entire forest falling from sky. The impact kicked up a cloud of dirt and rocks, which rained back to the ground, covering Harry.

Dirt nearly burying him, he heard the earth split as the worm rose from the ground on the other side of the downed tree. It swayed in the air, as if sensing for some sort of sign. Ducking down in a shallow impression in the ground, he cast a powerful Banisher, sending the entire tree flying at the worm. The thick trunk flew into the worm, before pinning it against a larger tree on the other side of the clearing. Caught, the worm thrashed against the bond, contorting its body as it tried to wriggle out.

Running forward, Harry conjured another long Flame Whip, brandishing it above his head. At his footsteps, the segmented body began to turn, lowering its head down, mouth opened wide.

Like he was throwing an uppercut, he jabbed his wand upwards. The fiery chain ate through the purple flesh as it were paper, and cutting through the body. Jerking the chain upwards, it sawed through its upper torso, bisecting the worm down the middle. Black liquid spilled to the ground in a tidal wave as both sides of its body flopped to the side, like a piece of cooked spaghetti.

Harry was immediately soaked by the black blood, the smell of rotting corpses and dirt assaulting his nose. Clearing his eyes with a wave of his wand, he saw a thick fissure open in one of the rings below where the Flame Whip had done its work, widening by the second.

It was still trying to escape!

"I don't fucking think so!" Harry snarled, cutting his wand down. Sweating with concentration, he transfigured the soil housing the worm's body into salt. At once, every inch of the worm began to spasm of the salt absorbed the liquid from its skin. Like a flower wilting the worm shrunk and shriveled, the purplish-brown rings of its hide contracting into dried white husks.

The worm was dead.

Victorious, he let out a deep breath. That had been fucked up, even by Voldemort's standards. And to think, Dumbledore hadn't even mentioned the necro-worm. Was he so powerful that something like a thirty foot killer Inferi worm didn't register?

Shaking his head, Harry quickly summoned Slytherin's ring. A hole immediately appeared in the worm's papery hide, the hidden ring having torn right through it. It was completely covered in black blood and dirt, which he vanished with a wave of his wand, leaving behind a slightly tarnished gold ring with a black stone set into it.

The last remaining artifact of Salazar Slytherin. Older, even.

The Resurrection Stone.

Floating in mid-air, bathed in moonlight, he began to raise his hand towards it. He wanted, needed, to talk to her. As one of the Hallows, it had…

Control seeping back into his mind, he stopped its movements. He couldn't afford to let himself be distracted. The dead were dead, and long gone. Dumbledore found out the hard way, and he wasn't going to come all this way just to make the same mistake.

Turning his wand on the floating ring, it began to heat beneath his palm as he prepared to cast Fiendfyre. The flames just about to erupt from his wand, he heard movement from the path from the road to the clearing. Letting the ring fall to the ground, he quickly rapped himself on the head, the cold of the Disillusionment Charm running down his neck.

Harry shifted a small pile of dirt atop the ring, before creeping towards the deep shadows of the trees. A tall, familiar figure strode into the clearing, purple robed billowing about him, half-moon glasses glinting in the moonlight.

Albus Dumbledore gave the corpse of the necro-worm a curious glance, before his bright blue eyes swept around the clearing, finally settling upon Harry.

"Why hello, Harry."

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_The echoes of their combined cries had faded, leaving behind only the pants of labored breathing. Harry rode the breaking wave of his release blissfully, eyes closed, the helpless spasms of his muscles slowing._

_He lay on his side atop the smooth silk sheets, her pale, darkly freckled back pressed tightly against his chest. His left hand was draped possessively around her bare midsection, while his right arm was snaked under her lithe body, his hand cupping the lower of her small, perky mounds. Smiling against her vibrant, flowing red hair, he lightly pinched the hardness of her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. _

_Ginny let out a deep moan before pressing harder against him. Still sheathed deep within her, she clamped around him tightly, eliciting a harsh intake of breath from Harry. _

_Gently shifting the hand draped across her midsection, he slid it up, over the curve of her hips, all the way to her left breast. He cupped the pleasant handful for a moment, giving it a slight squeeze, before moving it to her freckle-dotted cheek. Softly, yet firmly, he tilted her head towards his, capturing her lips. She immediately parted them, deepening the kiss as their tongues flicked against one another. _

_Harry broke the kiss first, resting his head atop hers, draping an arm over her. Letting out a deep sign of contentment, Ginny captured the hand in her own, placing it over her left breast. Beneath it the small, lightly freckled globe, her heart fluttered, thrumming against the rough calluses of his hand. _

"_That…was spectacular," she declared, letting out another deep breath, which did wonders for the pleasant handful beneath his palm. _

"_I aim to please, milady," Harry breathed into her ear. She nodded a single time, before pushing back against him._

"_It's like a dream," she said airily. _

"_And that would be the alcohol talking," he lightly taunted. _

"_No, it's not," she disagreed, shaking her head. "I think you made me sweat out all of the Firewhiskey."_

_Tightly embraced, facing away from him, Ginny couldn't see the forced tone that his smile took, or the haunted edge that crept into his eyes. _

"_It…it felt like it used to," she said after a moment of silence._

"_Like how?"_

"_Carefree," she said, choosing the word after brief consideration. "Like we had our whole lives in front of us."_

"_We still do," Harry answered, holding onto his smile for all it's worth, because it's all fucking lies, it's poison rolling off the tip of his tongue, and it's breaking his heart. _

_Their time together was almost at an end. _

"_Did you ever really think we'd be free?" she asked, the wonder in her voice almost child-like. _

_For a moment, he considered lying, before shaking his head. With what he's about to do, she deserved as much as the truth as he can reveal. _

"_There…there were long stretches where I didn't even know why we fought. I made speeches, I planned, I inspired as best as I could…but it was like going through the motions, I never thought victory was possible."_

"_I know what you mean," she admitted. "But…but it's all different now."_

_Harry goes to reply, to say anything, but found that his mouth was frozen. Again, he's grateful that Ginny can't see his face, because the anguish in his eyes would be unmistakable._

"_We finally might be free."_

"_Maybe," Harry forced out, "But it's still a long road."_

"_We've come this far, though," she pointed out, before letting out a long, jaw-breaking yawn. Beneath his hand, he can feel her heartbeat begin to settle down into a slow, steady rhythm "Maybe someday we can even begin to think about bringing children into this world."_

"_There is no good left in this world," Harry replied firmly. "Voldemort destroyed it all. All he left behind was poison, which would infect our kids from the moment they arrived."_

"_Y-y-you're wrong," she said through another yawn. "As long as two people can love each other like we do, there is still good left in the world."_

_Guilt knifed through him at her words, deeper than any blade could strike. If he was wrong in his reckoning, it would be him responsible for destroying the last remnants of good in this world, not Voldemort._

"_I love you, Ginny," he said, pressed tightly against her, tears beginning to cloud his vision as her breathing slowed further, becoming shallower. _

"_I…love…you…too…" she murmured quietly, before drifting completely under, her exhalations becoming deeper, slower. _

_Gently, he withdrew from her, before sliding his arm out from under her. Though normally the act would be enough to rouse her, there had been enough Sleeping Draught in the Firewhiskey to keep her resting for the next day. _

_At least if he was wrong in his reckoning, she'd be sleeping when the universe tore itself apart._

_Picking up his wand, he cleansed his body of the fluids associated with their lovemaking, before quickly dressing. Going over to the bed, where Ginny was soundly asleep, he pulled up the covers, all the way up to her shoulders. Gently, he placed a single kiss upon her forehead, his vision becoming hazy._

"_I'm going to go make things right, Gin," he promised, before rising. Wiping an arm across his damp eyes, he strode to the door and passed through it without a look back. _

_The Sleeping Draught should have ensnared Croaker and Zacharias by now, leaving Hermione as the only unaffected person left in the house. Creeping quietly down the stairs, he took a glance towards her room, to see that the door was still shut tightly._

_She was asleep._

_Relieved, Harry passed down the rest of the stairs. The worst was over. Now all he had to do was grab the Extractor, his bandolier of potions and his armor, and he'd be ready to take the final step of this journey, leaving behind Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for the final time. _

_To the ruins of the Ministry of Magic._

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"Good evening, Professor," Harry replied in an even tone, revealing nothing of his frenzied thoughts. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"I must admit that Lady Luck aided my efforts to find you. This was the seventh place I checked, and my prospects grew dimmer with each apparation."

"Just think: If you had arrived a few minutes earlier, you would have been able to see first-hand one of Voldemort's most vile creations," he said, motioning towards the dry husk of the necro-worm.

What was left unsaid was that Harry had been less than a minute away from leaving. The passing seconds tugged at him, but he maintained his passive façade. He couldn't afford to rush anything at this juncture.

If Dumbledore knew the full extent of Harry's plan, he'd do everything in his power to stop him.

"What exactly was it?" the Headmaster asked, giving the white remains another curious glance.

"A giant, killer Inferi worm."

"That must have been…a rather unpleasant experience."

"It was," agreed Harry, before deciding enough pleasantries had been passed. "How did you find me?"

"When reports of the attack upon Gringotts first surfaced, it was reported that Lucius Malfoy had initiated the attack. However, one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, Dedalus Diggle, who accosted Lucius while waiting to get into Gringotts, swore that he saw the exact pair of eyes blazing with intensity while on a patrol of Hogwarts with Kingsley and Hestia."

"Shite," swore Harry. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows slightly, before continuing.

"By the way, I must thank you for not killing any of the Aurors."

Harry shook his head in response.

"They didn't ask to be dragged into this," he answered simply. "They were just doing their job."

"I see that this courtesy does not extend to the goblin security forces," Dumbledore coldly pointed out.

"Putting the Wizarding world's wealth in the hands of those creatures was one of its worst mistakes," spat Harry. "I assure you, I've seen what they're capable of. Being incapable of mercy, they deserve none."

"I cannot condone these actions, Harry. One of the goblins saw you kill six goblins with a single curse, Harry, and claimed it was you that cast the first curse."

"Of course they would!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm sure that they left out the fact that the first spell I cast was a shield, to protect myself from their arrows. Granted, it's all lies anyway, since I didn't leave behind any witnesses."

Dumbledore shook his head.

"The goblin you left behind in the Lestrange Vault, Griphook, survived. Not only was he able to provide an accurate description of you, which matched the one given to me by Sirius, but he was able to tell me about the golden cup you took from the Lestrange Vault."

Harry said nothing, watching Dumbledore with careful eyes. His hands were bare, but the Headmaster's reflexes were still quick as lightning, and could probably draw faster than Harry could cast.

"Admittedly, it is this detail which troubles my mind more than any. The Harry that I know would never consider nearly killing his godfather, which you almost did during your break-in to the Black family home."

"Of course I didn't want to hurt him," Harry said, glaring at Dumbledore. "Once the choice was taken out of my hands, I hurt him just enough to escape. My time is short, Professor. What do you want?"

"Sirius was able to give a description of the locket that you took from Grimmauld Place. It sounded rather familiar."

"Did it?" Harry asked, revealing nothing. His question prompted Dumbledore to let out a heavy sigh.

"Slytherin's Locket, and Hufflepuff's Cup. The last time I saw them, they were in Voldemort's possession. I can only assume that it was those objects which drew you back into the past, but why? What are the objects, Harry?"

"I think you already know," replied Harry. "Or at least suspect. It wasn't just any ordinary diary that I destroyed during my second year, Professor."

"No, it was not," the Headmaster agreed, the cogs in his mind beginning to turn. "I believed it to be a horcrux, as it would have explained Voldemort's survival, but with the carelessness that it was treated, I could not be…."

Dumbledore trailed off, his blue eyes widening in the moonlight.

"It cannot be…"

"It can, and it was," Harry replied grimly. "Voldemort created six horcruxes, of which this is the last."

Summoning Slytherin's ring, he levitated it into the air. It glittered, the starlight reflected off of the flawless gold. Dumbledore's eyes followed the movement of the ring as it bobbed in the air.

Harry let out a mental sigh of relief. The first pitfall had been avoided. Someone as skilled as Dumbledore could not be lied to, but through judicial use of misdirection and omission, he might be able to hide his true intentions from the Headmaster.

"It can't be touched," Harry warned, as Dumbledore reached out for it.

"What curse is placed upon it?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "Only that it was enough to strike a fatal wound upon you during my sixth year."

Dumbledore's hand froze in place.

"Then I thank you for informing me of this fact," he said, bowing his head slightly. "What do you plan to do with it?"

Instead of answering with words, Harry swung out with his wand. A brilliant tongue of fire leapt out from it, engulfing the floating ring. It was reduced to molten slag within moments, which fell from the air, the droplets splattering upon the ground below.

"Concentrated Fiendfyre? Quite impressive, Harry. So that was the final horcrux?"

Unable to think of a quick way to deflect the question, he chose to ignore it.

"The destruction of the horcruxes will not kill Voldemort. His mortal body must still be destroyed."

"Do you know where his is?"

Harry nodded a single time.

"Then let us end this tonight."

He closed his eyes at the Headmaster's offer. Despite breaking into Azkaban, destroying Gringotts and harming people at the school he presided over, Dumbledore still acknowledged that Voldemort's defeat would not be without cost.

"No," Harry answered, opening his eyes, regret in his words.

The final step was his alone to take. It was the only way it could happen.

"No?"

"No," Harry reiterated, more firmly this time. "If I thought I could trust you, don't you think that reaching out to you would have been my first move?"

"When have I ever given you reason not to trust me?" Dumbledore quietly asked, after a moment of heavy silence.

"I don't know!" Harry exclaimed, injecting frustration into his voice. "Where do I start? Since you left me with my abusive Aunt and Uncle instead of the countless Wizarding families that would have taken me in! Since you withheld the Prophecy from me until I was fifteen! Since you refused to give me any advanced training, leaving me unprepared to fight a war against Voldemort on my own once you died at the end of my sixth year?"

The resentment was real, but not nearly as deep as Harry made it out to be. Dumbledore was closing in quickly to the heart of the matter, and Harry needed to keep him away from it all costs.

Dumbledore's eyes recoiled slightly at the outburst, but his gaze remained level.

"As I believe you know, I wished to spare you such a large burden. I wanted to allow you the chance at a happy childhood."

Harry let out a mocking laugh.

"For the first ten years of my life, I knew nothing but hatred and emotional abuse from my 'family'. Your idea of a happy childhood leaves much to be desired."

"Be that as it may," Dumbledore plowed on, "I cannot change the past. Am I to browbeat you for putting the fate of the universe at stake for trying to do the same? No, I think not. Our choices are made, what is done is done. Let us take this opportunity to make the future right."

"I don't think so, Professor," Harry said, his heart heavy.

"Why, Harry? What is it that you are trying to hide from me? I have already assured you that…"

Dumbledore trailed off, the truth of the matter revealing itself. At once, Dumbledore's eyes hardened, his wand leaping into his hand.

"No, I cannot allow this to happen."

"I know you can't," Harry admitted sadly, raising his own wand.

Silence stretched out after his sad, defeated admission. Dumbledore, lit by moonlight, his bright purple robes stirring slightly in the breeze, his bright blue eyes mired in sadness, looked no more eager to cross wands than Harry did. Yet the Headmaster's lined face was set in determination, and there could be no doubt he would fight to preserve what he thought right.

For that matter, so would Harry.

He led out with a Reductor Curse, slinging the spell low. It fell short of the Headmaster, throwing up a cloud of dirt. Harry jabbed his wand forward, launching an ice spear, but Dumbledore had already vanished the wave of earth, before stopping the projectile in mid-air.

Harry's second Reductor struck the ice construct, detonating it in a rain of chips. Dumbledore easily vanishing the flying shards, before swinging his wand down. At once the ground beneath Harry's feet grew insubstantial as he sunk into the earth. Whipping his wand down, he slung a Banisher, before prematurely detonating it. The resulting impact threw him backwards, his body ripping free from the clutches of the makeshift quicksand with a loud sucking sound.

He rolled backwards on the packed soil a single time, before leaping up just in time to swat away a Stunner. Across the clearing, he saw Dumbldore swing out with his wand. From the end of Elder Wand hung a thin whip-like protrusion, perhaps thirty feet long, which appeared to be made from flowing water.

Harry immediately leapt into the air, waving his wand as he did so, transfiguring the approaching whip into stone. The long whip passed right under his feet as the sudden increase in weight dragged Dumbledore off-balance, to his right. As he stumbled, he released the stone whip, allowing it to fly off to the side.

Landing nimbly, Harry circled around to his right, Transfiguring the ground beneath Dumbledore's feet to ice. With a flick of his wand, the Headmaster reverted the ice back to earth, solidifying his footing.

Though their exchanges so far had yielded a draw, Harry took solace that he had at least gained a better position. Instead of Dumbledore directly blocking his escape route, the path back through the narrow hedgerows, the passage now lay directly to his right.

"I can appreciate that you're not trying to kill me, Harry," the Headmaster calmly intoned, showing no signs of slowing down, "but I advise you to lay down your wand. You are clearly talented, but longer duels often become wars of attrition, with injury befalling even the best-intentioned of combatants."

"I've done this before, Professor," replied Harry. "I'm just hoping your staying power isn't up to its former levels."

"We shall see," conceded Dumbledore, before Harry jabbed his wand forward, starting off his spell-chain with a Banisher, before cutting it to the side, and up, launching a Disarmer. Through the Auror spell chain he went, his wand a blur of movement as he continued to cast, in order, a Body-Bind, Stunner, Disarmer, Confundus Charm before going back to the Banisher and going through the process again.

Dumbledore, however, was more than up to the task. Though his wand moved no more quickly, his movements were perfect, without a single millimeter of wasted motion. Like a swordsman he swatted the incoming spells out of the air, canceling them in showers of brightly colored sparks.

The third time Harry went through the chain, Dumbledore still showed no signs of fatigue, bearing the barrage of spell-fire with patience, gaining ground. Disintegrating the Body-Bind, Dumbledore then jabbed his wand forward, catching the Stunner. The crimson spell rocketed back at Harry, who deflected it into the night sky. He brought his back down, only to see a ton of earth levitated from the ground and Banished at him.

Whipping his wand forward, Harry attempted to Vanish the great mass, but it was far too much. It flowed around him like water, the dirt forming into a cocoon around him, before beginning to close in, the dirt walls changing into rock. Bringing his wand down, Harry quickly Vanished the soil beneath his feet. A second before the walls closed completely in, Harry dropped out of the cocoon of stone, into the small hollow in the earth.

Crouched low, he swung his wand to the side, beginning to Vanish more of the earth. Seeing the sky once again, he rocketed out from the depression in the earth. The large cocoon of stone blocking Dumbledore's line of sight, Harry took off towards the path, ducking into the narrow space between the two hedgerows.

"Harry, stop!" Dumbledore's voice pleaded from the clearing, but Harry paid no heed, his feet pounding upon the hard earth. At once, the hedgerows began to fold inwards, the long brambles grasping at him.

Whipping his wand about his body, Harry launched a multi-directional Banisher, blowing the grasping branches away from his body, snapping them into pieces. Moving forward, he felt something grab his ankle, and pull backwards, sending him crashing to the ground. Whipping his head around, Harry saw that two of the thicker branches, had gotten through the blast, and had wrapped around his left leg. With a snarl, he severed the thicker of the two with a quick cutting curse.

Lining up the second shot, flames exploded in front of Harry. Squinting against the bright flare of fire, he saw Fawkes emerge, talons outstretched. At the phoenix dove towards him, the branch jerked backwards, pulling him back towards the clearing. The sudden movement caused Fawkes to fly past him, just barely missing Harry.

Thrusting his wand forward, he severed the branch with another Cutter. Freeing himself, he turned, to see Fawkes charging towards him, talons outstretched. At once, Harry jabbed his wand forward.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

The bright green curse struck the phoenix center-mass, detonating it in a flash of flames and crimson feathers. Featherless and smoking it fell to the ground, no larger than a chick.

Harry immediately sprinted forward, shouldering his way through the thick hedgerow. The plants immediately came to life, but a quick Vanishing Spell eliminated his resistance, opening a path all the way to the road.

"Harry, don't do this!" screamed Dumbledore behind him, his voice tortured.

Ignoring the desperate plea, Harry cleared the hedgerow, reaching the road.

"I'm sorry Professor" he said, "But there's no other way."

With a slight pop, he apparated away.

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_The Anti-Apparation wards were only the simplest layer of the wide security net that blanketed the ruins of the Ministry of Magic. No method of magical transportation could hope to get a wizard within a hundred feet of the site. The underground complex was nearly universally assumed to be impenetrable. _

_Which was the problem with assumptions. _

_Green flames roared within the sole functioning fireplace within the Ministry as Harry was spat from the churning maelstrom. Coughing, he landed hard upon his knees, the impact jarring him. _

_It had taken him several weeks to figure out how to break into the abandoned site, all without alerting any of the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, but he had finally done it, and repaired one of the least-damaged of the fireplaces. He hadn't wanted to connect it to Grimmauld Place, but plugging it into the heavily monitored Floo Network would have been suicidal, and would have compromised both his secret entrance to the Ministry and Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. _

_Standing up, he brushed the stray ashes from his cloak, his gaze wondering about the Atrium. _

_What once was majestic was now only ruin. A great deal of the ceiling had been dislodged, leaving gargantuan chunks of stone scattered across the lobby, peacock-blue paint visible on the bottom sides. The collapse of the ceiling had completely demolished the wooden floor, battering it to splinters, dark stone peeking from beneath. _

_On the few sections of the ceiling which remained intact, the dull symbols that once flowed across like goldfish in a pond had fallen still and gleamed no longer. _

_Avoiding the worst parts of the floor, Harry deftly wove between the dislodged ceiling. The rows of fireplaces on either side of him had been blasted into oblivion long ago, the shattered mortar having long ago fallen to dust. _

_No water flowed within the circular fountain in the middle of the Atrium, a large chunk of stone having fallen onto the rim, releasing all the water. All that remained inside the circular enclosure were piles of dusty Sickles and bronze Knuts. Of the grotesque sculpture commissioned by Voldemort during Pius Thicknesse's brief tenure there was no sign. _

_The golden gates which had once separated the Atrium from the hallway containing the bank of elevators had been smashed flat by chunks of falling ceiling. A few solitary bars poked from the rubble, like the limbs of earthquake survivors. Of the security desk where Harry had checked his wand during his fifth year, there was no sign. Clambering swiftly over the debris, he leapt down, landing on the other side of the hallway. _

_The damage incurred to the rear of the Atrium was far less severe. Only small chunks of the ceiling were missing, and the paneled wood lining the walls was intact, though retained none of its former sheen, being covered in dust. On the rear wall was a bank of twenty elevators, placed side-to-side. The golden grilles in front of each lift had either been torn completely away, or smashed inward, making the elevator an impossibility to open. _

_Not that he had any intention of relying on the lifts. Using a lift that hadn't seen any sort of maintenance in years was suicidal, at kindest. Going to one of the elevators divested of its grill, Harry parted the thick doors with a wave of his wand. They screeched open begrudgingly on rust covered tracks, revealing a darkened shaft, stretching out to each side, beyond his line of sight. _

_Reaching into his robes, he withdrew a shrunken broom, expanding it with a tab of his wand. Mounting the Cleansweep Five, he hopped aboard and flew into the wide shaft, holding his lit wand like a flashlight. It pushed back the darkness, revealing that the lifts were suspended by vertical cords attached to massive wheels on the ceiling. Nearly every elevator was placed at a different height, with each metal cord frayed and battered, unraveling string by string. _

_Feeling renewed confidence in his decision not to use the lifts, he flew down the long shaft, all the way to the bottom. Forcing open another door at the bottom, he passed through it, entering the Ninth Level of the Ministry of Magic._

_The Department of Mysteries._

_To Harry's amazement, it looked completely undisturbed, as if it had been excluded from the calamity which had claimed the rest of London. It could have been a photograph of the sight that had greeted him during his trip at the end of his fifth year. _

_Swiftly passing down the corridor, still lit by flicking torchlight, he passed through the plain black door at the end, entering into the circular room. The eerie blue-flamed candles met his sight, blurring to neon streaks as the door swung shut behind him, the room spinning. _

_Without hesitation he moved to his right, placing his hand upon one of the black doors. It remained still beneath his touch, with no hint of give, where so many years ago he had destroyed Sirius' knife. With a deep sigh, he recited the words Martin Croaker, former Unspeakable, had revealed to him._

"_I seek knowledge not for gain, but to better understand myself."_

_The door immediately swung open, and Harry stepped through the darkened threshold at once._

_His journey was nearly complete. _

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Harry arrived in an all too familiar graveyard. Beams of moonlight shone down from the heavens, illuminating the crumbling, overgrown markers and monuments. His eyes darted around the immediate area, scanning the graveyard, before moving his gaze to the black outline of the church, and the fine old house that topped the nearby hill.

He was alone.

Immediately he clawed at his neck, withdrawing the pocket watch. The hour hand was stopped at eleven, while the minute hand was pointing straight up.

One hour remained.

Letting out a deep breath, Harry counted his blessings, realizing how lucky he had been. He felt dirty, irrevocably soiled about felling Fawkes, a creature of pure intention, with a killing curse, but it was a matter of necessity. He couldn't have allowed Fawkes to fire-transport him back to the clearing.

One did not get lucky twice against Albus Dumbledore.

Crouching down low to the ground, he ducked behind the shadow of a nearby yew tree. He put his back to it, and sank to the ground. The adrenaline of battle beginning to wear off, he begin to feel a bone-deep weariness settled upon his being, along with a persistent pain from both his midsection and right leg.

The rigors of the day were beginning to take their toll.

Running a hand over his clothed stomach, he felt blood seeping through the fabric. Opening wide his robes, he discovered that the bonds holding the two sides of the puncture had split, allowing the rent in his flesh to grow. Waving his wand, he re-sealed the wound, forcing it closed. It was a temporary fix, but was all that Harry needed at this point.

He only required one more hour.

The pain in his right leg he could do nothing for. Instead, he withdrew a Rejuvenation Draught from the potions bandolier, before downing the blue liquid in a single gulp. Strength immediately flowed back into his limbs, awakening them from their deadened state. Vanishing the empty phial, he considered his options.

Harry had hoped that the trip to the Gaunt cottage would be a quick one, allowing him the time to make a side trip to the Riddle home and kill Wormtail. However, with the delays incurred between fighting both the necro-worm and Dumbledore…

Many times he had pored over his memory of the Third Task in a pensieve, but not once did his past self glance at the watch during his trip through the maze. Other than a vague guess, he had no idea at what time Harry was going to arrive, nor what time Wormtail was going to come down. The last thing he wanted to happen was to sneak up to the Riddle home, only to miss Wormtail and allow the traitor to kill Cedric again.

For a moment, he sat in silence, before rising to his feet and glancing around the tree. The coast was still clear.

"Fuck it," spat Harry, prepared to break cover and make the trek up to the house on the hill. With such little time, he couldn't afford to sit around and do nothing.

Without warning, a large gust of wind echoed throughout the graveyard, quickly followed by the distinctive thuds of two pairs of feet hitting the ground. Glancing around the tree, hidden by darkness, he saw his younger self fall to the ground, the Triwizard Cup tumbling from his fingers.

"Where are we?" his fourteen year-old self questioned, his voice shaky. Green eyes darted about frantically, unblemished and untarnished by the horrors that the older version had lived through.

Cedric Diggory, equally unnerved, could only reply with a shake of his head.

In the silence that followed, Harry thought of the shock he had felt at that moment, seeing the dark and overgrown graveyard. It was at this moment that his innocence had irreparably shattered, and the true nature of the world had been revealed.

"Did anyone tell you the Cup was a portkey?" Cedric asked.

"Nope," replied Harry, looking warily around the graveyard. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

The script was clear to him now. Shortly, Cedric would suggest that the two of them withdraw their wands. They would set out, only to have Harry's scar explode, and Wormtail fell Cedric with a killing curse.

It was time to intervene.

"Forgive me," he whispered, before stepping out from behind the tree. Though his conscience screamed for him to stop, he shut it out, rapidly approaching the two Champions. They stood side-by-side, Cedric nearly half-a-foot taller, gazing into the darkness.

His Stunner caught the unaware sixth-year directly in the back, dropping him to the ground. Grief overcame Harry's mind as he immediately swung his wand to the right, pointing it directly at his younger self. Before his younger self had even begun to turn, Harry thrust his wand forward, burying his guilt as deeply as he could.

"_Avada Kedavra."_

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Author Notes:

My apologies for leaving you all with such a cruel cliffhanger, but it was the most logical place to end the chapter. I know the duel with Dumbledore may have been a bit short, but as I had Harry mention, Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world, the only one that Voldemort feared. Harry was not going to get lucky twice.

One full chapter, and then the epilogue, and this story shall be complete. The next chapter won't be out for a while. I know what happens, but I still have a lot of details to iron out before I even begin to think about writing the finale. Again, I think chapter 2 of 'Ouroboros' will be next, but we shall see.

Thanks to Grinning Lizard for his help with making my writing not suck in places.

Thanks for Swimdraconian and jbern for their assistance.

Thanks to Princess Serine and Liron-Aria for their hard work on the chapter.

Sadly, the FF review system has been down for a while, not allowing me to reply to a lot of the reviews I've received as of late. I apologize for that, but it is out of my hands. The system seems to be running slightly better now, so I should be able to reply to the reviews submitted for this latest chapter.

As always, I very much enjoy feedback. Even a simple "liked it" or "it sucked" is usually enough to coerce me back to the computer. The hugely positive response I received last chapter brought me back more quickly than anticipated, opting to bang out this chapter instead of going back to 'Ouroboros'.

DLP Thanks:

shinysavage, Euro, fanficlover, The Berkley Hunt, Provis, CheddarTrek, Basilisk, Tempus Fugit, Tenages, Ceebee


	9. XII: The Twelfth Hour

The Unforgiving Minute

XII: The Twelfth Hour

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**22:00**

The bright green curse seemed to move in slow-motion as it flew towards the unsuspecting, younger version of himself. The fourteen year-old boy had turned halfway around, as if to check on Cedric, unaware that his time had run out.

Without warning, a rock flew from the ground, directly into the Killing Curse. It exploded upon contact, spraying chips of stone in every direction. The concussion from the blast knocked the fourteen year-old Harry sprawling to the ground, face first.

He wasn't alone!

At once Harry went to spin, only to turn right into a red curse. It struck him in the chest, sending him tumbling backwards into the soil. The impact rattling his teeth, Harry immediately jumped up, to see the paled, harried form of Peter Pettigrew catch his wand.

"You!" Harry roared, charging towards Wormtail. What the hell was he doing down here so early?In the original timeline Harry and Cedric had been granted at least a minute before Peter had come down from the Riddle Manor, holding Voldemort within his arms.

And the rat had definitely not been hiding in the fucking shadows.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry sidestepped the bright green light, zigzagging his way towards his parents' betrayer. Wormtail shook in his boots, fear written upon his face as he tried again. Harry was showered with dirt as a patch of grass to his right exploded, but he pressed on, closing the distance to fifteen feet.

"Professor, what's going on?" demanded young Harry, prompting the elder to stop in his tracks. Before Harry could swing his head around a curse struck him in the back, the Body-Bind forcing his arms and legs into a straight, locked position. Snapping to attention, he tumbled backwards.

The night sky looming over him, Harry let out a desperate mental scream as a scarred face filled his vision.

"What have we here?" Barty Crouch Jr. asked, still in the guise of Mad-Eye Moody.

"Professor, what's going on?" repeated Harry, coming up behind the disfigured form of Moody. "Cedric's knocked out and... who is that?"

The words trailed off as Harry's younger self glanced across the patch of grass, laying eyes upon the man entrusted to be the Potters' Secret Keeper.

"You bastard!" he spat suddenly, before turning to the person impersonating Professor Moody. "Sir - er - that man's Peter Pettigrew! He betrayed my parents, and framed Sirius Black! You have to believe me! "

"Oh, I do. Believe me, I do, Harry."

"But - wait, you do?"

"Yes."

"Well - we have to get him!"

Moody shook his head.

"I don't think so, Harry," said Crouch, waving his wand casually and upending the younger Harry, wand flying and limbs flailing. "After all, he was invited. It's the Hufflepuff and our nameless friend who weren't."

"What? Let - let me go! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"Language, Harry."

"Fuck you! We trusted you! All of us did!"

"Which was the point," replied Moody with a leer, before thrusting his wand forward. The young wizard flew through the air, crashing against the large marble headstone. All sense jarred loose from the impact, he could only stagger before thick ropes wrapped around him, lashing him to the marker from ankle to neck.

If Harry could have hung his head in despair, he would have. There were a million excuses he could use to justify his lapse in awareness at the end, but each and every one of them boiled down to one core truth.

He had failed.

The younger Potter secured, Crouch Jr. turned towards Harry's frozen form.

"And who the devil are you?" the Polyjuiced man asked, squatting down beside him.

"He can't talk," commented Wormtail, sweat running down his face from the close call. A few more feet and Harry could have torn the bastard limb from limb.

"I know that," Crouch Jr. snapped, the electric blue eye focusing upon Pettigrew. "Our Master's time is at hand. Prepare for the ritual, we have kept Him waiting too long."

Wormtail slunk away at once, making his way back towards the house. The blue eye watched his progress up the winding dirt road leading back to the Riddle Manor, before spinning back towards the Fourth-Year tied to the marble headstone.

"You can't be working for Voldemort!" Harry's younger self screamed, fighting against his bonds. "You've spent your entire life catching Dark wizards!"

"Do not speak his name!" Moody thundered, before jabbing his wand forward and launching a Silencer. The scarlet spell struck Harry in the chest. Rendered mute, the teenager continued his rant silently for a few moments, before closing his mouth, his eyes narrowed in hatred.

Harry considered informing his younger self of Moody's true identity before rejecting the idea. The less he appeared to know, the better his odds of success. Though the odds weren't in his favor, he'd fight until his very last breath and would need every advantage he could scrounge.

"A filthy half-blood such as yourself does not deserve to speak his name," Moody continued, before swinging his wand back to the ground where Harry lay frozen. "You, however, do have some talking to do.."

With a wave of his wand, Moody conjured a thirty foot length of rope before snapping it like a whip, causing the bindings to glow a bright yellow for a moment before fading back to dull brown.

"Shortly I'm going to undo the Body-Bind," he said, focused upon Harry. "When I do, you're going to be tempted to Apparate, but rest assured, that would be a very, very bad idea, as I've just affixed an Anti-Apparation Trigger to the rope. Try to get-away, and what's left of you will make splinching look like a hangnail."

Harry swore inwardly. He had seen the effects of Triggers first hand. If anything, Crouch had been underselling it.

Helpless, Harry's stiff body was levitated into the air. He was placed with his back against the yew tree, his feet touching the ground. Moody swung his wand in a circle, causing the long coil of rope to loop tightly around Harry's body, trussing him to the tree.

With anticipation rising in his stomach, he watched as Crouch undid the Body-Bind,

reverting Harry's body back to its natural posture. He observed that while his bonds were still tight, the grip was slightly looseded around his wrists and stomach.

The rudimentary pieces of his escape falling in to place, he kept a neutral expression upon his face as Crouch Jr. moved closer, his wand raised.

"So who are you?" he once again asked.

Harry remained silent, refusing to divulge anything.

"Do not test my patience. If Potter is your enemy, perhaps you share the same goals as our Lord."

He considered the Death Eater's offer of an out for a moment, before discarding the idea, opting to maintain his stoic silence.

"_Crucio!"_

Crouch's curse set every one of his nerve endings alight, as if holding a flame to every single one. Despite being hardened by years of fighting, his screams echoed throughout the graveyard.

No one grew accustomed to the Cruciatus Curse.

After fifteen seconds of intense pain, Crouch Jr. lifted the curse. Free from the blinding torment, Harry let out a gasp of relief. Across the graveyard, he saw his younger self staring into his eyes with equal parts awe and fear. Did he suspect anything yet?

"This is entirely avoidable," explained Crouch. "Just answer my questions, and I'll have no reason to torture you further."

Again, he had no response for the Death Eater. Crouch's single organic eye hardening, Harry braced himself for a second dose of the Cruciatus.

His tied limbs, already aching and twitching from the first curse, fared no better the second time. Invisible hot knives stabbed at him over every inch of skin. His screams once again rolled out across the darkened cemetery, red filling his vision as the capillaries in his eyes burst.

As the agony went on, he felt his mind beginning to tear free from its moorings in a desperate attempt to flee from the pain. As if on cue, Crouch cancelled the curse. Harry collapsed against his noticeably loosened bonds, taking in deep gasps of air as the fire began to recede from his flesh.

"I saw how near that last dose pushed you to the edge," Crouch Jr. said with a leer, leaning towards Harry. "Had I held it another five seconds, the glazed look in your eyes would have become permanent, just like it did for the Longbottoms. Sure you don't want to talk?"

Through the red haze he glared at Crouch for his mention the cruel fate visited upon the Neville's parents. Crouch let out a mocking laugh.

"That look is never very intimidating when coming from someone tied up, without their wand. So, what will it be? Truth, or another taste of the Cruciatus Curse?" he asked, spinning his wand in the palm of his hand.

Before Harry could reply, even with silence, the question was taken out of his hands.

From the dirt path leading up to the Riddle home came Wormtail, a bundle of rags held within his arms.

"Hurry," a high, cold voice urged, one which set Harry's teeth on edge.

"Yes, my Lord," Crouch Jr. swiftly replied, before waving his wand in the air. A giant stone cauldron materialized out of thin air, several feet away from the tombstone where the younger Potter was tied. He swiftly lit a flame under the giant cauldron. Fiery sparks began to leap over the lip, as if the cauldron were filled with boiling fire.

Through the thickening steam, silhouetted against the night sky, he saw the bundle of rags in Wormtail's arms began to shift and part, as if an infant was thrashing within them.

"It is ready, my Lord," Crouch Jr. said as the surface of the liquid began to glow with a bright, angry glare.

"Now!" the cold voice ordered.

Wormtail complied at once, unwrapping the bundle of rags. Thin, reddish-black arms covered with scales as opposed to skin reached up from the mass. A look of revulsion painted across his features, Wormtail picked up the infant. For a moment its gleaming red eyes and flat, snake-like features regarded Harry with mild interest, before it was submerged into the boiling liquid.

Again, Harry found himself hoping the monstrosity would drown.

Next to the stone cauldron his younger self writhed in agony, the tendons in his neck pulsing as he fought against the agony radiating forth from the scar on his forehead. Without any prior exposure to the Mental Arts, the teenager was forced to endure through the agony bereft of aid.

Through the red haze of burst blood vessels, Harry saw Wormtail scamper away from the cauldron, as if he was going to be pulled in as well. Crouch, his stolen wooden leg dragging slightly behind him, stepped forward.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

The ground beneath younger Harry's feet split open wide as a large, dirt covered bone emerged from the earth. Crouch levitated it into the cauldron, where it spit sparks upon contact with the potion, before turning the surface a bright blue.

With all the attention turned away from him, Harry began to writhe against his bonds, pushing out with his midsection and arms. He barely had an inch of slack, but he pushed against it with every bit of energy he had, willing, commanding the ropes to loosen.

Near the stone cauldron, Crouch withdrew a silver dagger from his robes. His hand was steady, and his eyes bereft of hesitation as he raised the gleaming blade in the air.

"Flesh of the servant, willing given, you will revive your master!"

Crouch thrust his left hand over the cauldron, before bringing the dagger down on his wrist. It severed the appendage cleanly, dropping the hand into the cauldron, prompting the potion to flash a brilliant red.

Crimson liquid spurting from the stump of his arm, Crouch marched over to Harry's teenage self, the bloodstained dagger still clasped within his hand. The Silencing Spell still in effect, the teenager's cry went unheard as the sharp blade penetrated the crook of his elbow. His gaze intent, Crouch twisted the dagger, causing blood to well up around the blade. Harry's eyes bulged with horror as Crouch withdrew the blade. From the wide, ragged hole in his flesh blood began to pour.

Dropping the bloody dagger to the ground, Crouch withdrew his wand. With a simple wave he conjured a glass vial, which was filled quickly with the younger Harry's blood, before being upended into the cauldron. The liquid within flash a blinding white, forcing Harry to squint against the diamond sparks spitting from the surface.

Without warning the bright display cut out, leaving behind a billowing plume of white steam. It obscured his younger self and Crouch, as well as the cowering form of Womrtail.

Just as he had all those years ago after touching the Tri-Wizard Cup, Harry prayed that the ritual had gone wrong this time. That Crouch Jr. had fucked up some critical part of the process, allowing the hideous, deformed infant to drown at the bottom of the stone container.

Once again, his hope was in vain.

The shadow of a tall, skeletally thin man emerged slowly from cauldron, barely visible through the mist.

"Robe me," ordered a high, cold voice, its owner obscured by the wafts of steam. Wormtail jumped at the command, bringing forward a dark robe held by jittery, shaking hands. He placed them over his Master's head

The thin form stepped forward, out of the mist. Its skin was chalk-white, its nose flat and snake-like. With crimson eyes it regarded his younger self, before a satisfied smirk stretched out across its thin lips.

The sight drove the spike of guilt deeper into Harry's heart. Despite compromising every bit of morality his soul contained, and sacrificing everything he had ever loved, he had failed.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

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_The featureless black door closed behind him as Harry stepped into the darkness. For a moment's breath he stood, every muscle held in place. Red flames bloomed forth from each side of him, throwing the area into an eerie crimson light. _

_The illumination came via torches set into shallow recesses within the stone walls, which curved off to the left. The hallway was constructed of large grey blocks, far different from the darker stone favored in the rest of the Department of Mysteries._

_This area was far older. _

_Footsteps echoed through the musty air as Harry descended down the crumbling steps. New torches came to life as he descended further into the earth, while the ones already passed extinguished themselves. _

_At the apex of every full turn down the spiral ramp lay a plain black door, all of which Harry paid no attention to. _

_Croaker had been willing to part with the information as to how to access the Big Combination, but had made Harry swear to not touch any of the other doors. _

_While the wonders contained within the upper levels of the Department of Mysteries were both wonderful and dangerous, the worst a witch or wizard could do was get themselves killed._

_Behind every door he passed existed the means to destroy the world. _

_The Big Combination was no exception. _

_The worn stone steps spiraled deeper and deeper into the earth, hundreds upon hundreds of feet below the Ministry of Magic. Just when it seemed he had gone too deep, and would soon penetrate the outer core, the steps flattened out into a patchwork of cracks and broken flagstones. The red lights winking out behind him, he saw that opposed to the other landings, no door led directly away from the sloping staircase. Instead, a large, curving archway cut into the stone blocks framed a hallway stretching away from the main passage. _

_Pure darkness gleamed in the distance, swallowing all stray strands of light. _

_Remebering Croaker's instructions, he withdrew his wand. Curse-breaking had never been his strength, being a skill set more in line with Hermione's talents, but with the precise instruction…_

_The steps committed to memory, he began to dismantle the wards piece by piece. Bright lines of magic flew as his wand cut through the air, attacking the wards. _

_It look longer than he would have liked, but after an hour, the protective wards guarding the Big Combination were no more. No longer having to worry about being sliced apart, melted or disintegrated ,he moved down the hallway. _

_Torches lit as Harry passed, moving ever closer to his goal. He was barely cognizant of the clack of his boots upon the stone floor._

_Every friend that he had ever lost to Voldemort's ambition, and his stubborn refusal to give in flowed through his mind. Time and time again he had been forced to compromise his morals for the sake of this eternal war, but of all his questionable transgressions, his most recent weighed the heaviest. _

_To go behind the backs of those who had stood by his side for years, never wavering as the casualties mounted and hope dwindled, was a betrayal of intractable measure. They had invested all their hope in him, The Boy Who Lived, and he had failed them all, time and time again. _

_The sole remaining hope was but a desperate grasp, which had little chance of working, and could potentially tear the universe in two. However, it was the only option left. _

_The end of the corridor approaching, Harry sensed a light turn on. He turned at once, wand drawn. Though he saw an empty corridor behind him, the proximity torch had lit, throwing the bottom of the spiral ramp into light._

_He was not alone. _

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The newly resurrected Dark Lord ignored both his servants and their captives, opting to examine his new body.

Harry took the opportunity given to wriggle further against the ropes binding him, while his eyes took in his adversaries. Wormtail cowered in the shadow of a flagstone, his wet, beady eyes staring at his Master with fear. Bartemius Crouch Jr. knelt upon the ground, the stump of his severed wrist painting the dark grass red, his expression wide-eyed and reverent.

Voldemort reached into his dark robes, withdrawing a yew wand. He caressed it gently, almost like a lover, before pointing it at Wormtail. The shaking man let out a squeak as he was lifted into the air and thrown against the headstone which the teenage Harry was tied to. The Dark Lord let out a high, cold laugh as Wormtail crashed to the ground.

"My…master…"

At Crouch's cry, the Dark Lord turned.

"My most faithful servant," he said, causing the rapidly paling Death Eater to straighten his posture. "Hold out your arm."

"Yes…my master," Crouch Jr. gasped, offering his undamaged arm. The long sleeve was pulled back, revealing the Dark Mark. The tattoo of a serpent protruding from a skull's mouth was an angry red, like a freshly healed burn.

"It is back," Voldemort said softly, staring at the brand.

"W-we knew you were coming back," Crouch said proudly, averting his eyes. "The mark has been getting brighter every day."

"And you shall be rewarded for you service," Voldemort said, before pressing a long, white fore-finger into the center of the mark.

The scar on Harry's forehead ignited with pain as his younger self's screams echoed throughout the graveyard. The agony receded when the Dark Lord took his finger off, leaving the crimson brand as dark as a starless night.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" Voldemort whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

"All – all of those who dare to forsake you will pay," Crouch said, his pallor ashen.

Ignoring Crouch, the Dark Lord began to pace back and forth across the high grass, his eyes sweeping the graveyard. With a cruel smile twisting his snake like features, he turned his attention to the younger Harry.

"You stand, Harry Potter upon the remains of my late father," he hissed softly. "A Muggle and a fool…very much like your dear mother. But they both had their used, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child…and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proven himself, in death…"

Voldemort laughed again, before turning his attention to the elder Harry. Revulsion and hatred churned in his mind at seeing the red, snake-like eyes, which narrowed to slits. He strode forward, his wand raised at Harry's prone form.

"Who are you?"

"Someone who picked a really bad time to come here," Harry replied, swallowing heavily. Voldemort could smell a lie from a mile away, and would not settle for being stonewalled.

"I have neither the time nor the patience to play games," he hissed. "You might as well have formally announced your arrival with the amount of spells being flung. What brought you to the cabin?"

Harry's answer was too long in coming for Voldemort's taste.

"_Crucio!"_

A river of molten pain washed over his body, submerging him in its depth. The potent agony cut through his rational mind, reducing it to that of a gibbering madman, frenzied screams his only language.

When at last the torment ended, all of Harry's nerve endings throbbed. Repeated exposure to the Cruciatus Curse prolonged its aftershocks.

"When I ask a question, I expect a prompt reply," warned Voldemort, his thin, papery lips pressed tightly together. Harry nodded in acquiesce, the path clear.

"I…I've been hunting you my entire life," he admitted, slumping against his bonds.

"Explain yourself," spat Voldemort, raising his wand.

"You're descended from the Gaunt family," shot Harry, speaking quickly, his Occlumency barriers set firmly in place. "I've been searching through your history, trying to find every piece of it."

Whatever Voldemort had been expecting, it had not been an admission of guilt. The hard line of his mouth wavered, stretching out into a smirk.

"To think, all those years of painstaking research, wiped clean by your own foolishness. There was nothing to be found at the cottage."

Harry heard the lie with crystal clarity, digesting its significance at once.

"We both know that's a lie," he shot back. "That big fucking worm was guarding something."

Voldemort's smirk stretched wider.

"Ah, so you were acquainted with the Necro-Worm," the Dark Lord said. "To defeat it by one's self suggests that you have great power."

"M-m-y Lord, he also tried to kill Potter," Pettigrew added, before pointing his gaze downwards.

"He what?" exclaimed Voldemort, spinning around towards Wormtail, who cowered beneath the blazing crimson glare.

"It's true, m-my M-master," Crouch gasped, his hair dripping with sweat, his skin waxy. "He stunned the other one, before sending a killing curse at Potter."

The Dark Lord spun back around, marching towards Harry, wand raised. He kept his gaze level as Voldemort surveyed him carefully, his inhuman eyes reflecting uncertainty, as if not quite sure how to proceed.

Like a man hanging over the edge of a cliff from a frayed rope, Harry waited, praying for Voldemort to not sever his one lifeline. Deliberation in his movements, the Dark Lord raised the wand above his head. He brought it down in a diagonal slash, conjuring a thin grey veil, which he draped over one of his arms. He raised the yew wand high, placing the tip against Harry's forehead.

"Listen to me very carefully," urged Voldemort, his voice a whisper. "You've yet to answer anything to my satisfaction, but it seems clear you know enough to be a threat. I ask you to watch, silently, as a new age dawns. If your answers do not improve, it shall be the last dawn you see."

"_Silencio."_

The close-range spell struck home, rendering even his breathing silent. The silvery cloak was unfurled, before shrouding Harry like a cocoon. Through the silvery strands Voldemort glared at him one final time, before turning back to his servants.

"Crouch. Wormtail. The wizard attached to this tree does not exist, and you shall make no mention of him. Am I clear?"

Both of the Death Eaters answered in unison.

"Good. Shortly, we will have further guests arriving. Crouch, once I have placed you among my most esteemed, you will assure that no one approaches my prisoner. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my M-master," answered Crouch, before struggling to his feet. He coughed violently as he did so, but succeeded in gaining his feet, the bleeding stump of his arm clutched to his chest.

Through the conjured cloak, Harry saw his younger self survey the scene with wide-eyed shock. He couldn't even begin to conceive of the whirlwind of thoughts that blew within the teenager's mind. Between nearly being killed by a mysterious wizard, discovering that the Mad-Eye Moody he knew was a Death Eater and witnessing Voldemort's resurrection, the youth probably didn't know which way was up.

The air suddenly filled with the swishing of cloaks. Betweens the graves and markers, behind the yew tree to which he was bound, and in every shadow, wizards appeared with loud cracks. Cloaked in dark, hooded robes and masks, they one-by-one moved forward with careful footsteps, not quite daring to believe their eyes.

Like a messiah Voldemort stood before them in silence, waiting. One of the bolder Death Eaters broke rank, falling to his knees and crawling towards the Dark Lord, kissing the hem of his billowing robes.

One at a time the Death Eaters took their sacred communion, before backing away, unconsciously forming a silent circle which enclosed Voldemort, the younger Harry, Wormtail and Crouch. From beyond the ring Harry watched the procession play out its course, cognizant of the gaps in the circle.

Lucius Malfoy would not be joining the reunion.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort began, shattering the silence. "Thirteen years…thirteen years since we last met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday…. We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"

The circle of followers froze at his words, the heavy accusation lingering in the night air. Voldemort lifted his head back, his flat nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the air.

"I smell guilt. There is a stench of guilt in the air."

An involuntary shiver wracked the frames of the gathered Death Eaters, fear rising off them in waves.

"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact – such prompt appearances! – and I ask myself…why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"

No one spoke, nor breathed. Only Wormtail twitched, while Crouch Jr. stood proud, despite his pale visage.

"And I answer myself," whispered Voldemort, "they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone…"

On and on Voldemort's self-pitying diatribe stretched. It was remarkable, how the Dark Lord orchestrated his followers like a conductor, playing with their guilt, reducing the most reasonable of assumptions to a debt to be repaid.

Unable to stand the weight of failure upon his shoulders, one of the Death Eaters broke the circle, throwing himself to the ground.

"Master!" he shrieked, head pushed into the ground at Voldemort's feet. "Master, forgive me. Forgive us all!"

Voldemort merely laughed as he lowered his yew wand.

"_Crucio!"_

Just as Harry had minutes ago, the Death Eater shrieked and writhed as invisible knives flayed his body. Beneath the cover of the screams, Harry fought against his bonds, fighting for every bit of purchase that he could find.

"Get up, Avery," Voldemort said softly, relinquishing the grip of the Cruciatus Curse. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years…I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?"

Pettigrew cringed at having Voldemort's focus fixed upon him, but managed to stutter an answer.

"Y-y-yes – yes, my Master!"

"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. Yet…you played a role in returning me to my body. Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me…though not as much as my most faithful of servants. Rise, Crouch."

Cold sweat popping out upon his skinny face, the effects of the Polyjuice having run dry, Crouch rose, shivering as he did so.

"I am yours to command, my Master," he whispered with bluing lips.

"Which you have proved, time and time again, and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…"

The Dark Lord raised his wand upwards, twirling it. A streak of molten silver erupted from it, which writhed and gleamed beneath the bright moonlight, before shaking itself into shining replica of a hand. He brought his wand down, causing the silver hand to fly towards Crouch and affix it to his dripping stump.

Rapture flashed across Crouch's face as he flexed the hand carefully, as though testing a glove. He made a fist, before smashing it against a nearby grave-marker, cracking it in two.

"My…my Lord," breathed Crouch, his eyes shining with tears. "Master…it is beautiful…I-I…thank you…"

He scrambled forward upon his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"May your loyalty serve as a reminder to your brethren," said Voldemort.

"Yes, my Lord," came Crouch's reply, before taking his place in the circle, squeezing in so that he remained closest to the yew tree.

Through the regiment of Death Eaters the Dark Lord went, calling upon each by name. Macnair. Crabbe, Goyle. Each he chastised, enslaving them more fully to his cause, while promising more.

When Voldemort reached the largest of the gaps in the circle, he stood silent for a moment, regarding it with crimson eyes.

"And here we have six missing Death Eaters…three dead in my service. Two who are too cowardly to return. They will pay. One, how I believe has left me forever…he will be killed, of course."

At his words, the Death Eaters stirred, their eyes darting sideways. Macnair even opened his mouth, as if to speak, before thinking better of it.

"Yes, Macnair?" Voldemort prodded. "You look like you want to say something."

The large, muscled man shuffled uncomfortably beneath the red-eyed gaze, before speaking.

"My Lord, Lucius was always faithful to you."

"Is that so?" challenged Voldemort. "During the Quidditch World Cup, he fled at the sign of the Dark Mark. He also failed to answer my call. How would you explain his absence, Macnair?"

"My Lord, Lucius is dead. As is Bellatrix."

For a fraction of a second, Harry let out a smirk as surprise broke out over Voldemort's snake-like features, before being replaced with a mask of indifference.

"Explain yourself," rasped Voldemort.

"I…my Lord, the Aurors and Hit-Wizards are all on high alert. Someone broke into Azkaban earlier today, and killed Bellatrix and Dolohov."

Macnair cringed, but Voldemort bore the loss of his most psychotic follower with stoic indifference.

"Continue."

"There was a break-in at Gringotts today. The bank collapsed, and the goblins aren't letting anyone in. Witnesses said it was Lucius that broke in, but the Aurors found Malfoy Manor burned down, and found both Lucius' and Narcissa's bodies inside."

Voldemort's eyes blazed with such intensity that the large man took an involuntary step backwards, fear written across his features.

"Three of my faithful Death Eaters lost, and no one feels that this is important enough to bring to Lord Voldemort's attention? Is there anything else?"

Despite his obvious trepidation, Macnair took a hesitant step forward.

"Someone snuck into Hogwarts, and fought the Aurors. They used Polyjuice, but it wore off right as he escaped. The Aurors think it was the same wizard who broke into Azkaban and Gringotts. All they know is that he's short, has long, black hair and green eyes-"

"_Crucio!"_

Voldemort's eyes burned with rage as the Death Eater screamed beneath his curse, writhing on the ground. A smirk stretched across Harry's lips as he almost felt panic slide beneath the Dark Lord's mask of indifference. Did Voldemort realize that most, if not all of his Horcruxes had been destroyed?

Best of all, none of it mattered. Voldemort wouldn't deal with Harry until the Death Eaters departed. To show such weakness, to admit he had an enemy which had outwitted him, went against the ethos of the prideful, arrogant megalomaniac. To his followers he needed to appear omniscient, all-powerful.

Voldemort cancelled the curse abruptly, allowing Macnair to crawl back to the edge of the ring. He whirled upon the Death Eaters, each and every one dropping their eyes at his challenge.

"Another Dark Lord rises to usurp my position, and you say nothing…could it be that you are all fearful of this new threat?"

Silence stretched out in the wake of his question. It was Crouch Jr. who broke it, taking a confident step forward.

"This 'wizard' would not last five minutes against you, my Lord. Has this other 'Dark Lord' also conquered death?"

"Yet again, you lead by example, Crouch. To the rest of you: How could there have been any doubt?"

"We…we failed you, my Lord," answered Avery, misery in his voice. "We thought you dead. How could anyone had survived such an explosion?"

"Ah, what a story it is, Avery," breathed Voldemort, seizing the opportunity to move the subject away from the unknown 'Dark Lord'. "And it begins – and ends – with my young friend here."

The younger Harry, who had been largely ignored until now, gazed at Voldemort in silent fear as the tall figure moved next to him.

For untold minutes the Dark Lord regaled his followers with complete account of the journey which started in Eastern Europe and ended within the moonlit graveyard. Through it all Harry struggled against his bonds. The ropes covering his arms and midsection had loosened, but not enough for him to free his hands.

"…And here he is…the boy you all believed had been my downfall…"

The intricacies of his plan lain bare, he jabbed his wand, non-verbally canceling the Silencing Spell, before followed up with an incantation.

"_Crucio!"_

His voice restored, the teenager's screams rolled out over the dark landscape as his eyes rolled wildly in his head. The agony in his younger self's screams fueled Harry's efforts. He squeezed his body to the left; using the small amount of purchase he had gained to give his right arm more room. The maneuver nearly freed his right hand. Heedless to the robes rubbing the raw skin of his arms, he writhed, escape growing closer with every movement.

Voldemort raised his wand into the air, ending the Cruciatus Cruse without warning. The teenager slumped against his bonds, his groans of pain barely audible over the laughter of the Death Eaters.

"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me," said Voldemort. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is stronger. Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."

The pale, balding man approached the younger Harry, cutting through his bonds with a wave of his wand. The teenager fell straight to the ground as the Death Eaters closed around him, cutting off Harry's view. Only Crouch stayed back, his gaze remaining fixed on the circle of Death Eaters, but standing closer to the yew tree than the ring.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" questioned Voldemort.

The mocking words returned Harry to his own memories of this night. How he thought that his dueling lessons with Lockhart could stand against the most powerful Dark Lord Britain had ever seen.

"We bow to each other, Harry. Come, the niceties must be observed…Dumbledore would like you to show manners…Bow to death, Harry…"

The elder Harry strained against his bonds, ignoring the burning pain issuing through his abraded arm.

"I said 'bow'. Very good. And now you face me, like a man…straight-backed and proud, the way your father died…and now – we duel."

Harry saw nothing, but heard Voldemort cast the Cruciatus Curse, and the accompanying screams of agony. His efforts intensified, the moment in which he would need to act nearly upon him.

"A little break," mocked Voldemort. "A little pause…that didn't hurt, did it, Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"

Thoughts of hopelessness no doubt running through his younger self's mind, defiance the only resistance he could offer, Harry strained harder. For a moment, there was blinding pain, before his right arm freed itself from its bonds. He let out a pant of exertion, before bending his arm at the elbow, and inching his hand up, trying to force it between the tree and his back.

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," Voldemort's cold voice was saying. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry…come out and play, then…it will be quick…it might even be painless…I would not know…I have never died…"

As Harry's arm inched upwards, Crouch Jr. let out a mad, supportive cackle, one of triumph. Harry Potter was cornered, and his Master's victory was at hand.

The younger Harry leapt up from behind a headstone, his wand slashing forward.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

An inch from his target, Harry saw the red and green curses collide in mid-air. A brilliant gold light leapt forth from the point of collision, racing back towards each respective wand, connecting them both. An almost comical surprise flitted onto Voldemort's face as both combatants were lifted high into the air.

Confused shouts filled the air as the Death Eaters scrambled after their Master. Harry let out a silent scream of effort as his fingers closed the final inch to the object wedged between the small of his back and the yew tree.

The sharp knife pilfered from Lucius Malfoy's study a mere six hours ago cut through the thick bonds like twine. Freed from the conjured ropes, he sprinted after the retreating form of Bartemius Crouch Jr. Reaching out with his left hand, he grabbed a handful of his long, blond hair.

"Wha-" was all the Death Eater had time to say before the blade pieced the side of his neck. Flesh tore and blood spurted as Harry buried it to the hilt in a single movement, before withdrawing it. Crouch Jr. went sprawling to the ground, his punctured jugular pumping pints of his life blood onto the ground.

"That was for Moody," Harry spat, before ripping the wand from his gasp. Crouch tried to shout a warning to the other screaming Death Eaters, but all that emerged was a wet gurgle as Harry turned the wand upon its master.

"_Avada Kedavra."_

The green light struck Crouch Jr. in the face, etching a permanent look of shock upon his skeletal features, Moody's large robes falling off him like a child playing dress-up.

Without blinking, Harry turned his eyes to the remaining Death Eaters, all of whom were too focused on their master to notice that one of their own had just been killed.

Murder purred in his veins, crying out for more blood. With a ghastly smile, he obliged the voice, stalking towards the Death Eaters with crimson-tinged vision.

X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X

"_Show yourself!" demanded Harry, raising his wand high. Beneath the calm façade, his thoughts raced. Why hadn't the wizards following him bypassed the sensor?_

_It was almost like they wanted to be caught. _

_A shimmering patch of space wavered, before three familiar figures emerged from it. _

_Zacharias Smith led, his aristocratic, haughty features tightened in anger. With red, bloodshot eyes he glared at Harry, his footsteps quick, uncompromising. Bringing up the rear was Hermione, her bushy hair tied back in an unruly tangle, her large stomach, heavy with child, protruding ahead of her._

_However, Harry only had eyes for her female companion. _

_Ginny stalked past Zacharias, shrugging off his half-hearted attempt to stall her. _

"_What the fuck is wrong with you?" his lover screamed, betrayal thick in her words. "You drug me, fuck me, then leave me?"_

"_If we didn't know any better, we'd say you were going to deliver this straight to Voldemort," Smith added, his words cutting through the guilt conjured by Ginny's accusations. "Did you really think that we didn't notice you were missing for long periods of time over the past month? Hermione's been monitoring the Grimmauld Floo just in case you did something stupid, but this…"_

"_What were we supposed to think, Harry?" Ginny said, shaking her head with anger. "The Extractor was gone! How were we supposed to know you hadn't sold us all out!"_

"_Because you know me better than that."_

_Ginny slowed at his words, their impact striking her hardest. _

"_Please, Harry," she begged, the tears in her warm, brown eyes betraying the hardened contours of her jaw. "You don't have to do this."_

"_There's no other way," he answered with a morose shake of his head. "If there was any other…believe me, I-I don't want to do this."_

"_So don't!" Hermione spat, throwing her arms in the air. "You're putting the entire world at risk for something that might not even work!"_

_With razor-sharp clarity, Harry saw the bloodstains beneath her fingernails._

"_I'm so sorry, Harry," Ginny said, her eyes bloodshot and tear-rimmed. With a trembling hand, she raised her wand in his direction, regret etched onto every line of her face. "We can't let you do this."_

_The words of his wife stung, but not enough to detract from the impact of his observation._

"_I take it Croaker didn't really want to talk about the worst-case scenario," Harry said, shifting his gaze to Hermione. The pregnant woman flushed, but said nothing, her gaze remaining defiant. _

"_So what?" Zacharias shot back. "If we stop you from destroying the universe, I think it's worth a life."_

"_You said you weren't going to kill him!" accused Ginny, whirling around to face Hermione. "I trusted you!"_

"_We didn't have time to coax it out of him!" Hermione screeched back. "If we didn't make him crack quickly, we never would have caught up to Harry!"_

_As the two girls exchanged barbs, Harry could only shake his head in wonder. Only five members of the Order of the Phoenix remained, and still they killed one another. _

_War had made beasts of them all. _

_His internal musings were interrupted by the swish of a wand cutting through the air. Harry conjured a shield on reflex, which detonated in a shower of sparks upon contact with Zacharias' curse. _

"_We're here to talk, not-" Ginny began, only to cut herself off as she deflected Hermione's curse into the wall, showering them both with chips of stone. _

_Harry swung his wand out wide, Summoning a loose square of flooring. The flat piece of stone struck Zacharias in the back of his legs, sending him stumbling. Off-balance, he flung a Confundus Charm, which Harry easily parried, launching a Shield-Breaker disguised in the tell-tale crimson of a Stunner. _

_Spellfire from the two dueling witches exploding behind him, the blonde man conjured a scarlet magical shield. It disintegrated into bright red sparks upon being broken, the magical backlash knocking him backwards. _

_Harry surged forward, snapping off a vicious Disarmer. The spell struck Zacharias in the chest, breaking his wrist with a wet crack, all while flying backwards through the air. His opponent defeated, Harry began to lower his wand, only for his eyes to widen._

_For a split-second, he saw the stone block racing towards Ginny, and the Reductor she had flung to counter it, as if someone had taken a photograph of the scene. _

_Too late, Harry brought his wand back up._

_The spell struck the stone block center mass, detonating it in a rain of chips and jagged pieces. Both girls quickly conjured physical shields, protecting them from the deadly shrapnel._

_Bereft of wand, helplessly flying backwards through the air, Zacharias had no such option. _

_With surgical precision the high-velocity shards of stone sliced through Zacharias' body in multiple bloody mists. Almost numb with surprise, Harry saw the shredded body drop to the floor with a sickening thud. The glazed eyes rolled sightlessly in their sockets as Hermione let out a deafening shriek, all of her interest in battling Ginny evaporating. _

_She scrambled to Zacharias' side, grabbing his shoulder and shrieking his name like an incantation. With mad desperation she waved her wand over his thrashing body, but her wide, grief stricken eyes missed the obvious truth of the arterial blood pumping from his nearly decapitated neck, only a few strands of muscle and tendon connecting it to his body, and the shallowness of his breathing._

"_Zach! Zach, don't leave me! Zach!"_

_The one-time Hufflepuff still had words to dispense, but his mouth only wavered, before drawing in one final breath, which was never exhaled. _

_Hermione broke down, burying her face in his perforated chest, wailing into his cooling body. _

_Harry wanted to comfort her, to do anything, but the words, and the actions, wouldn't come. _

_It had been an accident, a stupid mistake, but it did nothing to dispel the fact that he had just contributed to killing not only one of the few people who had followed him through the war's twisting course, but a friend._

_A brother. _

_Ginny, her eyes brimmed with tears, her hands over her mouth, dropped beside one-time friend, offering a hesitant hand upon her shoulder. The pregnant, bushy-haired witch reared away from her touch like it was acidic, her eyes blazing with pain and rage._

"_Get the fuck away from me!" she screeched, her voice loud enough to shatter stone. _

"_H-H-Hermione, I'm sorry," hitched Ginny. "It was an accident-"_

_Hermione moved with a speed unbecoming of a pregnant woman. As Ginny raised her arms, the other witch swung around her. Before Harry could even blink, Hermione had one arm wrapped tightly around Ginny's slender, freckled throat, her wand pointed against the side of his wife's head. _

"_Enough! It ends here! Drop the fucking wand, Potter!" _

"_Hermione-" Ginny began, before the larger woman flexed her arm, cutting off her air supply._

"_Let her go," ordered Harry, his voice level, his wand raised forward. The bushy-haired witch's face was covered in her lover's blood, while her eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, reflecting the erosion of her mental state. _

"_We fucking trusted you, Harry!" Hermione screamed, spraying forth a fine mist of blood and spittle. "You were supposed to save us all, not kill us!"_

"_I'm trying to save us all," Harry replied, keeping his voice level. "We have a chance to bring back everyone we lost, all our friends and family who died in this endless war."_

"_Two versions of reality can't exist at the same time! You'd risk my child's life against the mere chance that the resulting paradox wouldn't tear the universe in two?"_

_Harry bit back his reply, well aware that an appeal to logic wouldn't sway his former friend. He instead shifted his gaze over to his wife, and her pale, frightened pallor. _

"_Hermione, you-"_

"_This is not a negotiation!" she screeched, digging the wand deeper into the side of Ginny's head. "Drop the wand, or I kill her!"_

_With a heavy heart, he saw that she meant every word. Into the warm, brown eyes of his wife he watched, images flashing through his mind like a slideshow. _

_Their first rapturous kiss within the Gryffindor Common Room. Stealing kisses in the broom closet on the Fifth Floor between class. How she had bitten her lip as he had slowly pushed into her for the first time, and how her trepidation had slowly melted into ecstasy. _

_The path that had began at Grimmauld Place the night of Dumbledore and Snape's deaths, and had led to this tragic decision. _

_Betrayal flashed across Ginny's face, her eyes widening with hurt._

"_No, Harry-" she began, throwing herself to the side, trying to evade Hermione's grip. At the same time, Harry Summoned his wife, breaking Hermione's choke hold across her threat. Ginny threw her head to the side, trying to avoid Hermione's wand, but the point followed the trajectory of her flight. _

_In slow motion he saw a yellow curse leapt from Hermione's wand, striking his wife in the side of the head. Blood, brain matter and tiny shards of bone splattered the wall as the left side of her head was disintegrated. The force of the spell knocked her to the side, where her limp body thudded off the wall, before collapsing to the floor, face-up. _

_Hermione, as if realizing the enormity of her actions, backed away from Ginny's body, her eyes wide with horror. Mad with grief, Harry thrust his wand forward._

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

_The malevolent green light struck Hermione in the chest before she could react. The witch, the light extinguished from her eyes, toppled backwards. She hit the floor with a sick thud, the large hill of her bloated mid-section rising into the air. _

_Harry lowered his wand, unable to escape the accusatory gaze of his former best friend. From his loosening hand his wand fell, clattering to the floor. _

_In the space of five minutes, his choices had spelled all of their ends._

_He had killed them all. _

X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X

On a raised patch of ground overlooking the graveyard a brilliant dome constructed from webs of golden light pulsed. The light banished every shadow, illuminating every inch of the overgrown cemetery.

His feet slapping against the grass as he ran, Harry withdrew the watch from around his neck, reading the face by the phoenix cage's blinding shine.

Eleven thirty.

Thirty more minutes to stop Voldemort.

Not nearly enough time.

Up ahead Death Eaters surrounded the bright radiance, like pygmies dancing around a bonfire. Within the dome Harry could just make out his younger self and Voldemort locked in a battle of wills, a bright thread of golden light connected the two wands.

A cold egg yolk dripped down the back of his neck as rapped himself atop the head, applying the Disillusionment Charm. The distance cut to thirty feet, Harry stopped in his tracks. With precision he began to wave and cut his wand through the air, before thrusting it forward. His arm bucked heavily as a column of amber light erupted forth, the unfamiliar wand robbing the spell of at least half of its punch.

The 'Devastator' flew like a cannonball through the air almost leisurely, at a sloping angle. Had a single one of the Death Eaters turned, they would have had ample time to avoid the powerful curse.

None did.

The spell struck the ground with a colossal thunderclap, before an invisible wave of force exploded forth from the impact site, consuming the nearby Death Eaters. Dirt and grass kicked out in all directions, before the air within the translucent sphere began to swirl. Rocks, branches and gravestones were ripped from the earth and began to spin around the circumference of the expanding vortex.

Upon being swallowed by the spatially contained tornado, the Death Eaters were shredded by the high velocity projectiles, as if they had been thrown into a blender. Dark scraps of cloth and severed arms, legs and heads joined the swirling vortex as it expanded further, eating two more Death Eaters before its momentum slowed to nothing. Bloodstained rocks, dirt, grass and scraps of dark fabric fell to the ground like a pestilent rain.

Harry moved quickly, camouflaging his own movements within the confused screams of the Death Eaters. He Apparated through the night air, appearing behind Avery. With an angry jab of his wand he launched a Dark Cutter, but the Death Eater was already in motion. A blindly-conjured shield popped into existence behind the small man.

As opposed to lopping off his head, the spell glanced off the shield, striking the ground. He let out a snarl of rage, before Apparating away. Harry scanned the immediate area, seeing that the cloaked figures had moved their attention away from their Master, and back to the unseen assailant who had just launched a curse powerful enough to kill a third of their number.

With a loud pop he appeared behind a slow-moving Death Eater, probably either Crabbe or Goyle. The hulking form started to turn at his arrival, but Harry was far faster, launching a blasting curse into the back of the hooded head. Like a pinched ripe berry his head exploded in a rain of blood and brains. For a second the headless body stood, blood still pumping out of the throat, before Crabbe or Goyle slumped to the ground, lifeless.

A sharp crack cut through the air as Avery re-appeared on the other side of the glowing cage, his wand pointed at his throat.

"We're under attack! He's under a Disillusionment-"

Enhanced by the Sonorus Charm, Avery was cut off as Harry appeared in front of him, launching another killing curse. A stone marker flew into the path of the curse, detonating in a hail of stone chips.

"He's right fuckin' there!" exclaimed Macnair as Harry Apparated, landing right behind the large form of the hulking, muscular Death Eater. His hand was in motion as he appeared, the knife held at an upward angle. The blade entered as the base of his spine, eliciting a deafening roar from Macnair. The remaining Death Eaters turned in his direction at once, wands drawn.

Harry fled, Apparating away. He reappeared thirty yards away, in the shadow of a giant stone angel. Wet viscera and gore shone in the moonlight, dripping off the blade, while his blood sang with the call of battle.

Across the expanse of crumbling tombstones, Macnair staggered for a moment, but remained upright. His blunt features contorted in rage, he whipped his head towards Avery.

"Get some fuckin' wards up! The rest of you, protect him!"

At Macnair's command, the rest of the Death Eaters rushed towards Avery. His wand a blur of movement, he snapped off several hexes. The cloaked figures avoided all the curses, save for the last one, a Skinning Curse striking him in the back. Like tearing wallpaper the skin was peeled off his body in wide stripes, taking the dark robes with them. For a single moment the red tissue of his musculature was visible, before he fell, painting the ground with blood as he thrashed, his shrieking mouth a crimson piston.

The seven remaining Death Eaters formed a protective ring around Avery, their wands out, eyes watchful. Through the small gaps in the circle he saw the short Death Eater cutting his wand in complex strokes, all while chanting under his breath.

Harry launched another Devastator at the grouped figures, but Macnair moved quickly, intercepting it with Banished grave-marker. His position compromised, Death Eater spells streaking towards him, Harry Apparated away from the swirling vortex, landing on the other side of phoenix cage.

On the fringes of the forest, away from the main concentration of Death Eaters, Harry briefly saw a panic-stricken Wormtail shrink down into his Animagus form, before fleeing into the darkened woods. For a moment he considered giving chase, before he felt magic wash over him as the Anti-Apparation wards sprung into place.

He cursed under his breath, before creeping around the phoenix cage. Through its golden veils, he saw wide beads of light grow pregnant within the solid beam, pushing themselves towards his younger self. Silently urging the teenager on, he trod closer to the grouping of Death Eaters, trying to decipher what object Avery had tied the Apparation Wards to.

"Flush the bastard out!" roared Macniar, before raising his wand. From the tip emerged an object moving at a high velocity, the size of a football, bright blue in color. The sphere passed Harry on the right, colliding with a marker, where it exploded in a rain of blue, painting the surrounding area.

In short order the air was filled the whistles of paint bombs hurtling through the night. Yellows, greens, blues and purples splattered over every surface, as if an army of kindergartners with an endless supply of paint had been turned loose. Caught in no man's land, Harry did all he could to avoid the barrage, but after several moments of evasion he was forced to conjure a shield.

A blue paint bomb struck it at once, coating the surrounding grass.

"There he is!" Macnair roared. "Take him down!"

Spells collided off of the opaque shield as Harry scrambled backwards, taking refuge behind a large grave marker. Hexes digging into the stone, spraying fine bits of granite in every direction, he dropped the shield and transfigured a nearby stone marker into mirror. Through the clear reflection he saw the Death Eaters charging towards his position, casting as they ran, closing the sixty foot distance.

Harry whipped his wand forward, tearing a marker from the ground. He banished it at the Death Eater in the lead, staggering the trajectory. The cloaked figure tried to blast it out of the air, but missed, the running motion throwing off his aim.

A chorus of cracks echoed through the air as the heavy stone struck the Death Eater in the chest, collapsing the cavity. Like a rag doll the hooded figure was flung backwards, before landing in an awkward tangle of robes, severe spasms wracking his frame.

In the fraction of a second before a stray curse smashed his makeshift mirror, he saw a large, grey curse leap from Macnair's wand. Harry began to backpedal at once, conjuring a physical shield right as the grey curse detonated the marker. Flying chunks of stone collided off the shield, knocking Harry off his feet. He scrambled up at once and ran away from the charging brigade, spell-fire nipping at his heels.

Ahead of him, he saw a patch of purple-splattered grass begin to melt into the ground. Harry leapt over the Transfigured area, clearing it. At the crest of a gentle hill, he slid down the damp grass feet-first, like a defender taking out a streaking striker. He spun around at the bottom, whipping his wand to the side before raising it up. The first movement clove a wide swath of turf from the ground, while the second levitated the greenery into the air. The floating blades of grass were Transfigured into metal.

Upon seeing the first Death Eater reach the top of the hill, Harry Banished the entire mass. The wall of spikes peppered the dark figure like a moving bed of nails. Bleeding from hundreds of tiny holes, his perforated eyes deflating within their sockets, the cloaked man collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony.

Two more Death Eaters crested the top of the hill, launching curses. The one on the right, a large one with blond hair, began to indiscriminately spray Killing Curses down the hill, hammering the ground on either side of Harry. Dirt covering his Disillusioned form, he scrambled backwards, taking refuge behind another crooked, leaning tree. Splinters began to spray in every direction as the tree was pounded by spell-fire.

Covered in dirt and blood, he felt the Disillusionment Charm weaken and break, unable to compensate for the grime covering his body.

Behind him stretched a flat expanse of ground broken only by small, unimportant markers, with no cover to speak of.

He was pinned down.

"Come on out, ya bastard!" mocked Macnair, his voice confident.

Harry bent down to the ground, thrusting his stolen wand deep into the earth. Beads of sweat broke out over his brow as he concentrated, sending tendrils of magic through the earth. It was like trying to hit a target with a blindfold on, without knowing where the bulls-eye was.

A task made no easier by the fact that Crouch's wand was not receptive to his magic.

"Yeah, come on out!" added Avery, before the short man let out a high-pitched screech. A skeletal hand, caked in black soil, had emerged from the ground, snaking around the Death Eater's ankle. A wet snap echoed through the night as Harry commanded the hand to close, shattering the delicate bones.

"It's fucking got me!" shrieked Avery, equal parts agony and terror spilling into the air.

A potent, focused wave of magic washed over the faint connection Harry had forged with the buried body, obliterating it. At once Harry tried to withdraw the wand from the ground, but it remained stuck within the ground, which had hardened beneath his feet. With growing unease, he tugged harder at the wand, but it might as well have been lodged in dried cement.

Someone had frozen the ground.

"We've got his wand!" Macnair yelled, victory in his voice. "Get him!"

Harry darted his head around the corner, before pulling it back again, avoiding a jet of malevolent green light by the slimmest of margins. Avery was down with a broken ankle, and the wound in his back was slowing Macnair, but the other four remaining Death Eaters ran towards the tree. He took a deep breath, before withdrawing Malfoy's knife from the small of his back.

Stepping to his left, be brought the hilt down sharply. It smashed upon the lead Death Eater's wrist, sending a dark purple curse into the ground. The large cloaked figure threw his weight forward, trying to use his superior size to pin Harry against the tree. At once he brought the blade up, burying it in his assailant's armpit, piercing the clustered bundle of nerves. With uncontrollable motions he began to flop like a fish out of water.

He shot out his arms, grabbing the man by the shoulders and spinning him around. The thrashing Death Eater's upper body exploded in a rain of gore, taking the curse meant for Harry. Crimson blood and bits of flesh clinging to his form, he ducked down, dodging another spell. Crouched low, he swung out with the knife, burying it in next Death Eater's thigh.

A torrent of blood spurted out as Harry withdrew the blade. The Death Eater fell to the ground as if shot, screaming as the dark blood from his punctured femoral artery ran between his fingers. Harry was atop the man at once, tearing at his hands, trying to steal the wand away. Green light filling his peripheral vision, he rolled to the side. The stray killing curse struck the Death Eater, silencing his cries.

Another killing curse forced him to scramble backwards, his boots squishing in the mixture of blood and paint splattered onto the grass. The large blond Death Eater, Gibbon, lined up another shot, firing another jet of green light. Harry rolled to his left, before rising up, throwing the knife as hard as he could.

Gibbon's eyes widened as the blade flew end over end, streaking towards him. In the process of casting another curse, he only had time to turn his body slightly. The knife stuck into his chest, the blade lodging itself into one of his ribs. Gibbon let out a scream of pain, but the entry point saved his life.

"Shite!" cursed Harry, already in motion, diving to the ground. He took the fallen Death Eater's wand for himself, launching a Disembowelment Curse. Gibbon's conjured shield shattered under the curse, discharging in a shower of sparks. Harry followed up with a killing curse, which the Death Eater dove to the ground to avoid, chest-first.

Wedged between the ground and Gibbon's heavy body, the knife punched itself through his ribs, perforating his lung with a loud pop. The large man let out a low wheeze as he flopped onto his back, air leaking from the hole in his chest.

Harry seized the opportunity, thrusting his wand forward. In his agony, Gibbon never saw the green curse streaking towards him. The spell struck him in the chest, extinguishing his life.

Before Gibbon's twitching had stilled, Harry spied red light on the edge of his peripheral vision. He whirled around, levitating a nearby marker into the air, taking the brunt of the Cruciatus Curse.

The look of triumph upon the unknown Death Eater's face morphed into terror upon seeing his blindside attack fail. The young wizard threw his hands into the air, dropping his wand to the ground, surrendering.

"I give up!"

"What the fuck're you doin'?" roared Macnair, making his way towards them at a slow pace.

Harry ignored the hulking Death Eater, replying to the young wizard's offer with a smirk.

"I'm not much for chivalry," Harry said, thrusting his wand forward. A grey ball of light soared through the air, striking the wizard in the chest like a cannonball. A crack echoed through the night air as he was blown backwards, leaving his empty boots standing upon the wet grass.

A killing curse streaking towards him, he directed another marker into its path. The chips of stone bouncing off Harry, he batted away Macnair's follow-up Cutter, beginning to slash his wand in fast, precise motions. Curse after curse burst from his wand, streaking towards the hulking Death Eater, all as he closed the distance between the two combatants.

Macnair's shield absorbed the first six curses, but Harry's Insanity Curse shattered the shield, sending the large man reeling backwards. He advanced on the defenseless Death Eater, green light gathered at the tip of his wand.

Without warning something slammed into his back, throwing him forward while dislodging his wand. As he hit the ground, a triumphant cry rang out from behind him.

"I got the bastard!" exclaimed Avery. On his back, Harry rolled to the right, another curse slamming into the ground next to him. Avery, his back propped up against a marker, launched another curse, but Harry scrambled to his feet, avoiding it. At a full sprint to took off, towards Gibbon's body.

The crippled Death Eater let out a mocking laugh, before focusing his wand on the dead body. A crimson Reductor Curse leapt from his wand, striking Gibbon's arm. The wand was vaporized in the blast, as was the right side of the body. Dirt, scraps of cloth and gore raining to the ground, Harry settled for the knife, drawing it from the corpse in a single movement.

Blade in hand, he ducked around a nearby tree, shielding himself from Avery's competent aim. His mind racing, the next step being plotted, the large form of Macniar crested a shallow rise, staring down at Harry. With slow, methodical movements, the Death Eater stowed his wand, before withdrawing a large, silver axe from within his robes.

The very same one, a lifetime ago, Oliver Wood had claimed for his own.

"So ye like blades, eh?" Walden Macniar asked, stalking towards Harry.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" demanded Avery, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth, ye whiny twat. This little cunt wants to go around stabbin' people? Well it's time for him to see how it feels."

Harry held the knife tight within his hand, the sensation of time slipping through his fingers almost physical. As much as he wanted to charge Macnair and finish him off, patience stayed his hand.

A few seconds saved wouldn't matter if the silver axe separated his head and neck in the process.

On the balls of his feet he waited, his muscles coiled like a snake ready to strike. The Death Eater's dark eyes narrowing in anger, he charged forward, raising up the axe. Harry prepared to roll to the side to avoid the swing, but Macnair instead thrust the blunt end of the handle forward, catching Harry in the chest.

The breath was driven from his lungs in a loud whoosh as he was knocked back into the trunk of the tree. Too late his mistake made itself clear: The silver axe was not for show.

Macnair knew how to fight with Muggle weaponry.

Harry ducked down, avoiding a horizontal sweep of the axe, which clove neatly through the tree. He rolled to the side, avoiding a vertical blow. Macnair lunged forward with another wide streak, the blade whistling through the air, bisecting a grave marker. Harry grabbed the upper half of the split marker, launching it at Macniar's head. The large chunk of stone struck his heavy jaw with a crack, breaking it. The Death Eater roared in pain, swinging out with the heavy axe.

Harry ducked under the wild swing, bringing the blade across Macnair's left knee. The large man kept him composure as tendons ripped and blood spurted, kicking out with his right leg. The tip of the boot connected with Harry's nose, breaking it with a wet snap, driving him back.

"Take that, yeh bastard!" Macnair roared, bringing the blade back down. Blood flowing down his face, Harry rolled backwards, the sharp edge kicking up dirt as it hit the earth.

"Ye're a quick bugger, I'll grant ye that," said Macnair, lunging forward. Harry cut to his left, forcing the Death Eater to follow. The large man went to pivot, only to have his left knee betray him. He stumbled, falling to his knees.

Harry was upon him at once, slashing out with the knife. The four fingers clutching the head of the shaft were amputated in a single slice, the severed digits falling to the ground. Macnair tried to bring back the axe with his other hand for one final swing, but with his front left unguarded, Harry pounced.

A rough, ragged crimson smile appeared on the Death Eater's throat, the knife opening him from ear to ear. Hot blood spurted from the wound in a high pressure spray, but Macnair never stopped trying.

"…bastard," he spat, blood dribbling from the corners of his mouth as he fumbled for his wand. Harry got to it first, ripping it from the large man's grasp. Macnair made a feeble attempt to win it back, but he pushed forward, knocking the Death Eater onto his back.

"Macnair!" cried Avery, from out of sight. "Please tell me you got the little runt."

The man in question attempted to answer, but all that emerged from his mouth was a wet gurgle.

"Not this time," Harry muttered under his breath, moving towards the sound of the high-pitched voice. Wand held high, he stepped into view of the crippled Death Eater.

"It was a good effort, but Macnair just couldn't close the deal."

Avery whitened at his words, before bringing his wand up. Harry's Disarmer got there first, slamming the Death Eater back against the marker. He snatched Avery's wand out of the air with his left hand, before advancing on the cowering man, both wands pointed at his heart.

"Where's the Anti-Apparation ward anchor?" demanded Harry.

Not bothering to wait for an answer, he thrust his wand forward.

"_Legilimens!"_

A brief image of the graveyard flashed by, before Avery closed off his mind, his Occlumency barriers raised. Harry withdrew from the Death Eater's mind, frustration eating at his psyche.

"Where's the fucking ward anchor?" screamed Harry, lashing out with his wand. An invisible force smashed into Avery's mouth, driving him back into the marker. He spat out a mouthful of blood, mingled with small white chips, before shaking his head.

"I'll never betray my Master again!"

Through his crimson vision, he shot his gaze towards the luminescent phoenix cage. Between the glowing webs of golden light, he saw silvery figures surrounding the two combatants, echoes of Voldemort's victims.

Which included both of Harry's parents.

With difficulty, he turned his attention back to the defiant Death Eater. How much longer did he have until the cage broke and Harry fled?

Five minutes? Two minutes?

One?

Time was too precious to waste playing mind games with Avery. Harry swung his wand back towards the man, felling him a killing curse. Without a second look down he stepped over the cloaked body, tucking the dead Death Eater's wand into an inner pocket, before marching towards the phoenix cage.

"_Accio Wormtail!"_

From the dense undergrowth the old, ragged rat flew, squeaking as it landed in front of Harry. Red light enveloped the small creature, before it began to stretch, sprouting arms, legs and a head.

The transformation complete, Pettigrew writhed on the ground, seeking mercy.

"Please, don't kill me! I-"

"Shut up."

Harry kept his voice level, but the rigidity in his words silenced the blubbering man.

"Give me my wand back."

Wormtail did as ordered, withdrawing from his cloak the wand stolen from the Malfoy Manor. If he was going to have any hope of besting Voldemort, he needed a wand close to the compatibility his old holly and phoenix-feather one had possessed.

The shaking man rose to his knees, clasping his hands together.

"Please let me go, I-"

A flat crack echoed out over the night as Harry's fist connected with Wormtail's nose. He fell backwards, whimpering as blood began to leak from his nostrils.

"That was for Sirius," said Harry, leveling his wand at Pettigrew's heart. "And this is for my parents!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, a supernova of light swept across the graveyard, blinding him. White pain filling his eyes, Harry cursed, spinning around. Through large yellow spots, he saw his younger self darting between the graves, dodging curses from Voldemort.

The teenager hooked a sharp right at a marble angel. A stray curse vaporized the angel, but Harry kept on going, taking a hold of Cedric's wrist.

All thought of Wormtail fleeing his mind, Harry thrust his wand forward.

"_Accio Cup!"_

For a moment, the twin-handled, golden cup flew through the air. Triumph shone is his younger self's bright green eyes, victorious at having bested Voldemort.

The elder Harry's Blasting Curse struck the cup in the center, detonating it in midair. Golden slivers and chips rained upon the ground, the teenager's mouth falling open as he saw his one chance at escape vanish. He stood motionless, the light within his eyes fading as hopelessness took hold, making no effort to move as a purple curse streaked toward him.

A marker flew into the air, taking the curse. His younger self blinked in confusion as Harry advanced upon Voldemort, wand drawn, eyes blazing.

It was time to end it.

X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X

The light of the phoenix cage extinguished, the graveyard fell into dark once again, illuminated only by the wide moon. Like a soft rain, chips from the stone marker pattered to the ground.

Voldemort's crimson eyes swept across the graveyard, searching for the soul who had been foolish enough to save Harry Potter. With satisfaction, Harry saw the malevolent gaze widen as he beheld his dead servants strewn about the cemetery, the papery features tightening.

"Your servants didn't pose much of a challenge."

The Dark Lord spun around at his words, wand drawn. At once Harry thrust his own forward, launching a Cutter.

"You!" exclaimed Voldemort, bringing his wand up. A black cord of energy burst forth from the tip as he summoned a Coil of Darkness. He brought the whip of dark energy across his body, snapping the spell out of the air. It discharged in a shower of sparks, but Harry's wand was already in motion.

A Crucifixion Curse leapt forth, before he cut the wand across the body, launching a high-speed arc of silver steel. An Ice Spear came next, followed by a jet of acid. Each spell was chained together, one movement leading into the start of the next curse. The wood grew warm beneath his hand as a constant stream of magic poured forth.

Voldemort, however, was faster.

With ease he swung the whip of Dark energy back and forth, snapping every single curse, spell and conjuration from the air.

Unease clawed at Harry as he continued to cast, launching a Gullotine Curse, followed by a length of copper chain.

Thirteen years of exile had not dulled the potency of Voldemort's spell work. Spell or curse, solid or magic, the Coil of Darkness cut through every single attack, disintegrating the spells with ease. Time had taken nothing from the Dark Lord's reflexes.

With every cut of the black whip, he gained upon Harry's cast rate, all while striding forward with confident steps, closing the distance between them.

Forty feet.

Thirty.

Twenty.

Sweat covered every inch of Harry's skin as he panted with exertion, trying to increase the speed of his casting, but Voldemort gained ground far too quick. He slung a Blasting Curse, only to have the black coil swing out, snapping the spell out of the air. Stepping forward, Voldemort thrust the coil forward.

Harry threw himself to the ground, letting the thin whip pass over him. The Dark energy fizzled out as Voldemort discarded the coil, thrusting his wand forward. A mottled grey curse leapt from the wand, forcing Harry to roll backwards. The grass in front of him began to blacken and shrivel as Harry cut his wand upwards.

A stone marker rose from the ground, detonating as a Killing Curse struck it. A Cruciatus Curse burst through the dust cloud, just missing his arm. His senses flaring, Harry jumped into the air, conjuring a steel plate beneath his feet.

Just as the platform materialized, the ground beneath him split apart as spikes rocketed out of the earth. They struck the underside of the plate, throwing Harry up into the air. He thrust his wand forward, Banishing the air in front of him as Voldemort Vanished the conjured platform. The resulting impact flung him backwards several yards, out of the way of the spikes.

He landed hard on the ground, before swiping his wand across his body, batting Voldemort's Nightmare Curse off to the side. Wand at the ready, preparing for the next attack, Harry's breath caught in his throat at Voldemort turned his wand upon his forearm, flaying the white skin open. Bright red blood spilt from the clean slice, spilling onto the earth.

The liquid smoked as it hit the ground, scorching the surrounding grass. The drops coalesced, before the mass began to move, cutting a burning trail through the earth.

Right towards him.

Harry whipped his wand forward, slinging a Vanishing Spell, but it had no effect upon the red, acidic pool.

A smirk playing at the corner of his lips, the Dark Lord's wand became a blur of movement as he began casting a steady onslaught of quick, simple spells. Harry batted each curse off to the side, all as the burning trail crept closer.

Deflecting a Cutter, Harry swung his wand down, unleashing a torrent of water. The river turned to steam upon contact with the line of blood, throwing wafts of white vapor into the air.

Harry swore, bringing his wand up just in time to deflect a Bludgeoner. He began to sidestep away from the trail, only to have the burning line adjust its path to follow him.

"You've cost me my remaining servants," Voldemort stated in a conversational tone, all while continuing to cast. "Who are you?"

Harry ignored the question, darting around a tree. For a moment he thought himself safe, before the smell of burning wood struck his nostrils. In a flash of flames, the burning blood exited the tree's trunk. Mere feet away, he rolled to the side, landing upon his knees. Swatting away another curse, he rose to his feet, running as he put more distance between himself and Voldemort's arcane Blood Magic.

Time slipped away like sand through his fingers, but he couldn't risk getting caught by the blood trap. He dodged a Body-Bind, before cutting his wand through the air, trying to Transfigure the blood, but the fluid was static, unresponsive to his command.

"The blood of Salazar Slytherin flows within my veins. How could your feeble attempts hope to overcome such ancient blood, upon which the Wizarding world was founded?"

Not responding to Voldemort's taunts, Harry rolled to the side, letting the trail of blood pass by him. The blood fire began to curl back towards him as he deflected another spell, stepping behind a large marker.

Behind him, Avery's cooling body lay sprawled upon the ground, his right ankle mangled, his face frozen in horror. Inspiration striking him, Harry removed Avery's wand from his robes, before Tranfiguring the wood.

"I admit, you intrigue me enough to make an offer," Voldemort's voice rang out. "Throw down your wand, and I shall call off the Bloodfire. There is much we must discuss."

Scratching the final few figures into the wooden shaft, Harry stuffed the wand back into his robes, before backpedaling. As he did, the Bloodfire cut through Avery's lower body, setting the robes alight and severing his legs at the knees.

"I don't exactly trust you," Harry fired back, ducking behind another tree.

"What would you require of me, then? An Unbreakable Vow, perhaps?"

To his shock, Harry heard truth in the Dark Lord's voice. Did Voldemort forget that he had just slaughtered all of his Death Eaters?

Clarity came quickly, prompting him to shake his head. The Dark Lord's servants were mere tools to him, replaceable. The Horcruxes, however, he valued greatly. To have any of them compromised…

"Fine!" Harry replied, stepping out from behind the tree, his wand held loose between clenched fingers.

"A wise decision," said Voldemort, waving his wand a single time. The snaking red line in front of Harry stilled, tiny wisps of smoke rising from the scorched trail left in the Bloodfire's wake.

Stopped, but not cancelled noted Harry, seeing that the crimson mass still boiled and rolled.

"I will, however, require a vow from you," Voldemort said, his lipless mouth stretching into a cruel smirk. "For all I know, you picked up a wand from one of my many departed servants."

"I could have," conceded Harry, holding his wand out. "But if I did, why would I give up my own wand, and not the stolen one?"

"Perhaps to make your surrender more genuine," replied Voldemort.

Right as the sentence ended, Harry spun the wand in his hand, slinging a Killing Curse. Voldemort hissed in annoyance as he jerked his own wand up, levitating a marker into the green curse's path, the resulting explosion showering him with stone chips.

"Foolish wizard! There will be no mercy for you!" declared the Dark Lord, slicing open his other wrist. The blood spilled to the ground, forming another stream of Bloodfire, which streaked towards Harry.

The second trail cast, curses and hexes began to fly from Voldemort's wand. Harry parried them as fast as they came, taking a few steps towards the Dark Lord. Two separate lines of Bloodfire approaching him from either side, Harry waited until the last possible moment, before leaping to the side, deflecting a Madness Curse.

The twin streams of Bloodfire converged for a moment, before curving back towards Harry.

"Shite," swore Harry, hoping that the two streams would cancel one another out. He backpedaled away from the twin streams, blocking curses as he did. Deep weariness pulled at his muscles with every movement, every cut of his wand.

As much as he was fighting it, the hours were catching up.

Voldemort, sensing his prey's weakness, caught a second wind, increasing the speed of his casting. Taken aback by the renewed ferocity of the attack, Harry parried as fast as he could, being pushed backwards. The two thin streams rushing towards him, he leapt to the side, landing off balance. Blocking a Stunner, he tried to roll under a Cutter, but the curse took him in the left shoulder, spinning him around.

A Piercer struck his unprotected back, opening it. Pain exploded through his back as the impact drove him forward. Stumbling forward, he threw out his left hand, breaking his fall. The action threw flecks of blood forward, onto the approaching line of Bloodfire.

Upon contact, the cursed fire fizzled, before extinguishing itself.

"Impossible!" yelled Voldemort.

Harry seized his chance, wiping his left hand across the blood flowing from the wound in his back. He flicked his hand forward, into the path of the remaining stream of Bloodfire, dousing it with his blood.

Pain radiating from the hole in his lower back, blood seeping into his undergarments, Harry conjured a shield. A Waking Nightmare Curse rebounded off it, followed by a Shield Breaker. He dropped the shield, only to be caught by a Bludgeoner. The impact spun him around, sending him to the ground, face-first.

His hands a blur of motion, a Disarmer struck him. The spell ripped the wand from his grasp, taking scraps of skin with it, flinging his body backwards in a tangle of limbs.

"Who are you?" demanded Voldemort as he caught the maple wand in his left hand. Crimson eyes narrowed, he stalked forward, wand raised high. "How did you break the Bloodfire?"

Harry shook his head in negation, unwilling to reveal that their shared blood disrupted the curse.

"_Crucio!"_

A scream tore through the night as Harry thrashed on the ground, thousands of invisible razors flaying the flesh from his bones. For what seemed like hours he thrashed on the soft ground, before Voldemort cancelled the curse.

"Who are you? I will not ask again."

Every one of his nerves singing, Harry struggled to his feet, catching the Dark Lord's gaze. He took a deep breath, before opening his mouth.

"Activate."

The key phrase deployed, the runes upon Avery's Transfigured wand lit up for a fraction of a second, before detonating. Voldemort's chalk-white, clenched fist exploded in a rain of blood, vaporizing everything from the palm up.

Harry drew his real wand from within his robes, thrusting it forward.

The Dark Lord, clutching his mangled hand, only had time to widen his eyes before the Kinetic Hammer struck him in the chest. A chorus of cracks rang out as Voldemort was flung backwards, as if hit by a wrecking ball. His body bounced a single time against the ground before rolling down a hill, out of sight.

Blurred, grey shapes filling his vision, Harry fell to his knees. The world faded from view, shifting to black, before his left hand shot up, cracking against his cheek. He barely felt the blow, but it was enough to bring the world back into focus.

"Just a little fucking longer," he urged, reaching around to his back. His fingers found wet, sticky blood, with layers of dirt beneath it, before briefly dancing over a hole in his lower back the size of Galleon.

The wound was still bleeding.

"Pull it together, Potter," he urged, before he reaching around with his other hand. A small jet of flame shot from his wand, onto the wound site. He let out a strangled cry as the fire did its work, sealing the wound. He Vanished the flames clinging to his robes, before drawing the last Pepper-Up from his bandolier. The red potion was downed in a single gulp. Steam sprouted from his ears as strength flowed back into his limbs.

His left shoulder and scorched back both singing with pain, Harry jumped to his feet, wand held high. He pointed it towards a nearby willow tree, before cutting his wand back and forth across his body, the movements becoming more intricate with each wave.

Beads of sweat breaking out over his body, he completed the process just in time to see the Dark Lord appear at the top of the hill.

Voldemort looked as if he had taken a battering ram to the chest. The cavity had partially caved in, giving it a concave look. The dark fabric of his robes had been shredded, revealing a flat, pale chest through which broken and splintered ribs poked.

Yet despite the damage, the Dark Lord stood tall, his wand slashing through the air.

At Harry's command, the willow tree came to life. The thick greenery blotted out the moon as it descended upon Voldemort, trying to smash him into oblivion. He conjured a large physical shield before the branches obscured him. The wooden arms cracked upon the shield, showering green buds onto the ground.

Voldemort emerged from the verdant rain, unscathed by the tree. Desperate, Harry commanded two more branches to crush him, but Voldemort's wand was quicker, his spells cleaving the two appendages from the tree. A third wrapped itself around Voldemort. The Dark Lord tried to blast the limb apart, but the branch jerked upwards, sending his spell flying into the sky.

Before he could cast again, the branch slammed down upon the ground, driving Voldemort into the earth. A second limb followed, but a conjured physical shield took the blow, driving him deeper into the earth. The leaves obscured the Dark Lord, hiding him from view. The branch lifted up, before smashing down again. The physical shield shattered beneath the blow, driving his opponent further into the earth.

The exertion of the large-scale animation sapping a good deal of his new found energy, Harry stalked forward, flicking his wand up. The thick, heavy branch lifted from the ground, exposing what remained of the Dark Lord.

A set of dark robes lay on the ground. Stained, red appendages trailed from the holes in the fabric, as if the robes had been stuffed with raw hamburger. To the right of the squashed figure was a long, yew wand.

"Is…is he gone?" a quiet, hesitant voice asked from behind him. Harry whirled around, to see his younger self standing next to an open vault.

Conflicting emotions warred within at the sight of his past. A burning will to finish the work his sacrifices had made possible, and the lost, almost hopeful look in the teenager's eyes.

"Not yet," Harry replied, before turning back to the body. Physical trauma could hamper the Dark Lord, but until every bit of his soul had been destroyed, he was immortal. Though it was strange that the figure was still, as if…

The truth of the matter became evident quickly.

"Harry! Get back in the fucking vault!"

"No, I can help!" the teenager insisted, moving forward. Harry spun around, wand raised, his boots kicking up dirt. The flecks passed through the illusionary construct lying on the ground, causing the doppelganger to waver.

Visions of the end of his fifth year flooded Harry's mind. The memory of that night, in the Ministry Atrium, amidst the ruins of the demolished statues still stood out. He remembered the crippling pain which had coursed through his veins when Voldemort had possessed him, hoping to goad Dumbledore into killing his adversary.

A scenario Harry had no intention of repeating.

As if strewn by an invisible wind, his younger self was blown backwards. End over end he tumbled, back through the open door of the vault. For a moment, he saw the teenager land in a pile of tangled limbs upon the water-stained concrete floor, before the heavy door swung closed. Harry sealed it with a wave of his wand.

Feeble, barely audible blows rained down upon the door from the other side, but Harry ignored them, his eyes scanning the darkened grounds.

"Come on out, you bastard!" Harry screamed. With the end of his quest so close at hand, to have his longtime enemy hiding was infuriating beyond description.

"If you insist," mocked Voldemort, his high, cold voice piercing the air. Harry spun around, to see the thin, cloaked figure emerge from the shadows of a willow tree. The concavity of his chest had flattened out. A silver hand gleamed in the radiant moonlight, affixed to his left wrist.

"I liked your hand the other way," said Harry with a malicious grin. "It was more satisfying to look at."

Voldemort responded with a smirk of his own.

"I look forward to breaking you, fool. When I do-"

Harry interrupted the Dark Lord's spiel, lifting his wand up. A solid wall of earth rose from the earth, before being struck by a Hurricane Banisher, flinging the entire mass forward. The cloud swallowed Voldemort briefly, before it passed by him, the dirt directly in front of him Vanished.

"_Avada Kedarva!"_

Harry leaned to his right, thrusting his own wand forward. With a thunderclap a blue bolt of lightning leapt from his wand, tearing off towards Voldemort. His movements too quick to track, the Dark Lord swept his wand down. Without ever touching his body, the blue lightning curved around the tall, pale body, before racing back at Harry.

Left no time to cast a shield, he cut his wand down, Transfiguring a nearby bush into copper. The lightning veered off course, detonating the metallic construct in a bright flash. His eyes burning, Harry flung up his left arm, shielding his eyes.

A rain of copper shards peppered his body, perforating his arms, chest, face and legs. Before the pain could make its voice heard, Harry lowered his arm, to see a column of pure black energy racing towards him. Startled, he leapt back, to see the curse slam into the ground.

An explosion tore through the earth, throwing sod into the air. In its wake, the very air seemed to wax and wane, like heat distortions. He whipped his gaze towards Voldemort, to see that the Dark Lord was gripping his wand with both hands, his eyes narrowed, his face tightened in concentration.

Fear lit into Harry's heart as the distortion rippled, before tearing open. Reality itself split, admitting a mass of tentacles formed of pure darkness. In all directions the writhing silhouettes stretched, grasping for anything. Grass rotted and died upon contact, the life drained from the plant.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Harry whispered, unable to help himself. At his words, a tentacle rose into the air, before lashing out. He rolled under the dark shape, the ground quaking as the limb struck it. From his knees, he tore a marker from the ground, Banishing it at the nearest tentacle. The grey stone struck the inky black, disintegrating into dust.

"A trifle upsetting, aren't they?" mocked Voldemort, before letting out a cold, insane laugh.

Harry backpedaled away from the writhing mass. As he did, the tear in reality grew wider, admitting even more tentacles through. Without warning, an alien presence began to batter at his mental defenses, with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

A wave of revulsion washing over him, Harry raised his Occlumency barriers. The touch had been brief, but enough to feel as it his soul had been stained.

They were beings of malice, of hunger. They cared nothing for Voldemort, or for anything, only of spreading discord, and of prey. The worst of his memories flashed through his mind, pulling at his psyche.

_The vampires tearing Wood limb for limb. Dumbledore being blasted from the topmost parapet of Hogwarts. _

_Blood and clumps of red hair sticking to the walls, at his beloved slumped to the ground…_

A loud explosion tore through the air, tearing Harry from the gates of memory. Iron shrapnel pattered to the ground as the younger Harry merged from the twisted remains of the vault door, his wand held high. The teenager faltered at the sight of the darkened monstrousities, his eyes bulging with terror.

Staring into the face of sheer evil, clarity descended upon Harry. Anger flowing in his veins, he thrust his wand forward.

"_Expecto Patromum!"_

A brilliant silver light leapt from his wand, coalescing into a mighty stag. The form lowered its antlers, before charging at the writhing mass. Like shadows before the sun the tentacles fled, back through the rift.

A single cry of disgust mingled with fear blared through his mind, before the intrusive consciousness departed. The last two appendages pulled the tear back together, mending the wound in reality in a flash of light.

The magical backlash from the sudden closure threw Voldemort's arms back, leaving him defenseless for a moment.

All the time Harry needed.

With a sharp flick of his wand, the Dark Lord was lifted from the ground, before being slammed back into the earth, sending his wand flying. Harry cut his wand to the side, conjuring a Flamewhip as he advanced upon his helpless adversary.

Victory at hand, Harry felt a heavy force slam into his back. His wand was torn from his grasp as he toppled forward. He landed hard upon the ground, spinning around to face his parents' betrayer.

Bathed in moonlight, Peter Pettigrew stood tall, catching Harry's stolen wand in his left hand.

"My wand, Wormtail!" rasped Voldemort. The rat-faced man jumped at being addressed, before turning his attention to the narrow length of yew.

"_Accio wand!" _

Wormtail spun around as the fourteen year-old version of Harry Potter stepped out of the shadow of the vault. Pettigrew let out a curse, before launching a spell at the teenager. Harry jumped back behind a large marker, avoiding the spell and letting the wand fly past him, into the darkness.

"Wormtail! Get my wand!"

With a flick of Pettigrew's wand, the marker flew into the air, exposing the young wizard. The Death Eater's back to the elder Harry, he withdrew his silver knife, launching it at Wormtail.

Just as Pettigrew began to cast again, the knife, flying end over end, buried itself in the former Marauder's back. The squat man took a single, unbelieving look back at Harry, before falling to the ground, face first.

Hearing movement behind him, Harry turned, to see Voldemort scrambling towards his wand. With a curse, he scrambled after the Dark Lord, but within moments, his opponent had crossed the rest of the distance.

"_Accio wand!"_

Again, the teenager's yell echoed throughout the graveyard. Voldemort let out a hiss of frustration as the wand flew from the patch of grass.

"Give me the wand!" ordered Voldemort, his crimson eyes blazing. His green eyes wide, the younger Harry shook his head a single time. The Dark Lord took a single step towards the teenager, before whirling back around.

Harry's footsteps thudded on the damp grass as he charged towards Voldemort.

"Without a wand, a Muggle is scarier," mocked Harry, closing the final few feet.

Voldemort swung out wide with his silver hand. A smirk of triumph stretching across his face, Harry bent at the knees to duck under the blow. A band of steel-grey magic shot from the silver appendage, wrapping around Harry's exposed neck. He brought his hands up, but not in time to prevent the grey band from encircling his throat, cutting off his air.

Choked gasps filled the air as Harry clawed at the constricting force, but his fingers passed through the collar, as if it were insubstantial.

"A Muggle is scarier?" the Dark Lord repeated, shaking his head. "The mere thought is insulting."

Voldemort raised the silver hand upward, curling the fingers in a fraction of an inch. Harry tasted blood in the back of his throat as the bonds tightened, digging into the flesh of his throat.

He wanted to rage. He wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all, to be so close to victory, only to have it snatched away by the most arcane of magics.

However, all he felt was panic as the black spots began to bloom in front of his eyes, growing larger and larger. He stumbled, before catching himself, knowing that if he fell, he may never rise again.

"Yes, there it is," Voldemort hissed, drawing close, so that the two enemies were a foot apart. "The horror, the hopelessness, the truth of it all. You will die tonight."

The Dark Lord shoved the silver hand forward, the palm connecting with the center of Harry's chest. A chorus of cracks echoed through the air as Harry was thrown backwards. Pain exploded in his chest as he landed upon the soft ground, the bonds around his throat disappearing.

Harry made a desperate attempt to leap to his feet, before falling back to the ground gasping, pulling in deep breaths of air. Despite the swelling in his chest, every inhale felt like heaven, a divine gift.

Soft footsteps falling upon the grass, Harry turned over, just in time to see a red spell rocket towards him, striking him in the chest. His legs and arms involuntarily snapped to either side of his body, so stiff they could have been encased in concrete.

Like a stalking cat Voldemort strode forward, a victorious grin stretching across his face.

"You see it now, do you not? How foolish it was to ever challenge me."

Helpless upon the ground, staring up at the Dark Lord's crimson, merciless eyes, Harry felt the approaching end. With every fiber of his being, he fought against it, trying to throw off the shackles of the Body-Bind.

To his shock, something gave.

Like brittle stone the spell began to crack beneath his will. With every inch of his consciousness he stretched, his magic grasped and tore at the binding. He didn't know, nor care, if the weak Body-Bind was due to the casting method, or the Dark Lord's fatigue, but given this one last chance, he had no intention of squandering it.

"You are far too dangerous of an opponent to let live," continued Voldemort, oblivious to Harry's struggles. "I do not think that you can be broken. You would gladly take your secrets, as well as mine, to the grave."

The Dark Lord knelt down beside Harry, and began reaching towards Harry's throat, the silver hand gleaming in the moonlight.

With one final mental heave, Harry broke the chains of the Body-Bind. The deadly grip inches from his face, he delivered a sharp kick to Voldemort's back. The blow knocked him to the ground, head first. Harry spun around, stomping upon the wrist connected to the silver appendage.

Voldemort thrashed against his wait, hissing with anger, but Harry bore down all of his weight on his left foot, pinning the arm. He dropped his body atop the thin, skeletal form, pinning him in place.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance," spat Harry, pressing his heel further into the wrist. The Dark Lord let out an angry hiss, but couldn't free his metallic hand, but succeeded in twisting his fingers enough to grasp the back of Harry's foot.

He tried to pull his foot away, but the silver fingers closed first, trapping his foot in the vise-like grip. A grunt of pain escaped his lips as Voldemort made a fist, the bones in his foot breaking with a low crunch. With a cry of anger, Harry threw an elbow into the back of the Dark Lord's head, driving it into the dirt.

The unexpected blow caused the silver fingers to open, allowing Harry to withdraw his crushed foot. He fell backwards, landing on his backside. Voldemort was up in a flash, slinging another spell from the silver hand. Harry rolled to his left, the attack missing by inches.

"I am getting annoy-"

Voldemort's words were cut off as Harry, pushing off the ground with his hands, landed a kick to the jaw of the pale fiend. The bone broke with a wet snap, sending the Dark Lord staggering backwards.

The weight of his left foot balanced on his toes, Harry leapt to his feet. He shuffled to the side, dodging another spell, before landing a swift sucker punch to Voldemort's midsection. The strike drove the air from his lungs, involuntarily keeling him over. Harry grabbed the back of Voldemort's hairless head, and brought it down into his rising knee.

The knee struck the Dark Lord in the center of his face, with a sound akin to a plate breaking. His opponent wavered on his feet, the crimson eyes cloudy, unfocused. Harry took the opportunity, shuffling forward on his broken foot. In a single movement, he kicked out Voldemort's legs, and drove the frail form into the ground.

A loud crack echoed through the night as Voldemort's unprotected back slammed into a worn stone marker poking from the grass. Harry landed atop him, before rolling off to the side. Spinning his head around, expecting another attack, he saw that the Dark Lord had not moved.

The pale, bald head threw itself from side to side, angry, incoherent hisses escaping his shattered jaw, his crimson eyes blazing with hatred. Both his arms and legs remained, however, remained stationary, motionless.

The Dark Lord had been paralyzed.

Every inhalation painful, Harry pushed himself into a sitting position, his back supported by a nearby tree.

"I got you, you bloody bastard," he whispered.

There was still more to do, including the hardest part of all, but the dust had settled, and it was he who remained.

With a hiss of pain, he reached around his neck, withdrawing the brass watch. Both the minute and hour hand held shy just short of a vertical position.

Ten minutes remained.

A loud explosion tore through the air, ripping him from his muted elation. Iron shrapnel pattered to the ground as the younger Harry merged from the twisted remains of the vault door, his wand held high.

From the shadows the younger Harry emerged, his wand held high. Green eyes wide with fear regarded the shrieking, spitting form of the Dark Lord.

"He's beyond hurting anyone right now, save for their ears," Harry said. At his word, the teenager's gaze darted towards him, before refocusing on Voldemort. The fear departed as the teenager's eyes narrowed. He drew his wand back, before spearing it forward.

"_Stupefy!"_

The spell cut off the Dark Lord's cries, restoring blessed silence to the graveyard.

"Thanks," Harry said with a grimace. Aside from his broken ribs, his crushed foot throbbed like a rotted tooth, while the dozens of deep cuts across his body stung.

At once the teenager swung his wand around to Harry, the tip shaking.

"Who are you?"

Ignoring the query, Harry reached around his neck, reaching to tuck the pocket watch back into his robes.

"Don't move!" his younger self ordered, his eyes wild.

"You sure you want to point that thing at me?" asked Harry, leveling his gaze at the younger version of himself. To his credit, the teenager bore the cold stare well, refusing to drop his eyes.

"You tried to kill me! What am I supposed to think!"

Harry let out a deep sigh, showing nothing of the deep sorrow welling within him. Even with Voldemort defeated, he was forced to sink of these depraved levels? Capitalizing upon the gullibility of youth?

"I also saved you," Harry pointed out after a moment's pause, never dropping his gaze.

Unsure of himself, the Triwizard Champion shuffled his feet.

The last remnants of his morality screaming out in horror, Harry raised his hand towards his face.

"Don't move!" repeated the teenager, his wand trained upon Harry's chest.

"If you're going to curse me, just do it," he replied without slowing.

The wand shaking within his clenched first, the teenager made no attempt to stop Harry as he lifted the fringe of ragged, matted black hair covering his forehead.

His younger self let out an unbelieving gasp, taking a step backward. As he did his hand rose up, tracing the outline of the lightning bolt shaped scar.

Harry said nothing, letting the sight do all of his speaking.

"Wh…where are your glasses?" the teenager finally asked.

The question caught Harry by surprise, eliciting a dry chuckle.

"A friend fixed my eyes, so I'd never need them again. Glasses will always pick the worst time to fog up."

"It…it doesn't go well, does it?" the young teenager asked after a moment's silence.

Harry reinforced his mental shields before replying, giving no hint to the turmoil raging within his mind.

"No, it doesn't. At the end of my Fourth Year, I was taken to this same graveyard. After placing Cedric under the Imperius, they imprisoned me. Wormtail took Polyjuice containing my hairs, before going back to Hogwarts, and killing Dumbledore when he turned his back."

"No!" exclaimed the teenager, his eyes widening.

"Within two years, the Ministry fell. And that was just the beginning."

"I…I don't believe it," he said, shaking his head. "How-"

"My time is short," interrupted Harry. "So listen to me: Thirteen years ago, as a child, you destroyed Voldemort's body, yet his spirit remained, allowing him to live on. The Dark Lord split his soul into seven pieces, encasing them with objects called Horcruxes."

"Horcruxes?"

The revulsion in the teenager's voice was unmistakable.

"Horcruxes, just like the one you destroyed using the basilisk's fang. While even one remains, Voldemort is immortal. In the future, they were scattered, impossible to find, but here…"

"Did – did you get them all?"

His heart growing heavy, Harry shook his head.

"There is one left," he replied, before motioning towards Wormtail's dead body, and the wand clasped within his left hand. "My foot is crushed though, and I need to fix that first."

"Oh – okay!" the teenager responded, summoning Harry's wand, before handing it to him. "So where's the last one? What is it?"

"You."

The teenager's eyes narrowed in confusion, before transitioning to panic. Betrayal in his gaze, he began to lift his wand, but Harry was far quicker.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

As if in slow motion, his fourteen year-old self slumped to the ground. His open, glassy eyes bored into Harry, penetrating his soul.

What little of it remained.

"I…I'm so sorry," he whispered, staring at the frail, black-robed figure. His stony heart ached, the magnitude of his betrayal weighing down upon him. He had used the gullibility of youth, and used it against a defenseless child.

If this hadn't damned him, nothing would.

"I…I have an offer for you," a high voice croaked, the words distorted. Harry turned towards the Dark Lord, his eyes burning with rage. The thin, papery lips began to move further, but the sound was blotted out by the blood roaring in his ears.

Harry whipped his wand at Voldemort, before jerking it backwards. The lower part of the Dark Lord's jaw tore away from the rest of his face, before being casually tossed aside. Blood poured from the wound, revealing a thin, forked tongue which hung down like a deflated balloon.

"I'm not interested," Harry said. His lower jaw missing, Voldemort began to slobber, dripping saliva and blood onto the ground, but Harry turned from the sight.

His job was almost done.

What was one more betrayal?

Closing his eyes, Harry brought up his wand, pressing it into the hollow between his shoulder and neck, before casting.

X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X -|- X-X-X-X-X-X

_The Elder Wand clattered to the floor, bouncing a single time rolling to the side, landing next to Ginny's pale, freckle-splotched hand. _

_Tears brimming in his eyes, Harry fell to his knees, grasping her hand, trying not to see the wreckage of her head, half of it ragged, bloody. _

"…_Harry…"_

_As if awakening from a deep slumber, Ginny's remaining eye opened, the warm brown orb rolling in its socket, seeking him out. _

"_I…I'm so sorry," Harry stuttered, shocked that she was still capable of speech with half her head missing. _

"_We…we all fucked up," she croaked, her mouth forming into a wistful smile. "Murphy's Law in action."_

_She let out a small giggle, squeezing his hand back. _

"_I could have saved us all," he said, a lump forming at the back of his throat. _

"_And nothing I could say would have changed that," Ginny said, letting go of his hand. She reached up, effortlessly, and caressed his cheek. "Same old Harry. You'll never rest until he's gone, will you?"_

"_I won't," agreed Harry. "If I have to tear the world apart-"_

"_Stop," Ginny ordered, the gaze of her single eye growing hard. "You can't lower yourself to his level. What good is victory if you become just as bad as him?"_

"_Ginny…" _

_He trailed off, not knowing how to finish the thought. Can you lie to someone in the final moments of their life? Don't they deserve better?_

_Harry held no illusions. With only twelve hours, he was going to be forced to take every unsavory shortcut available to complete the task in time. _

"_This may be war, Harry, but…what was it Dumbledore said? The most important thing is choosing between what is right and what is easy?"_

_Harry nodded. It didn't matter that the words were incorrect, only their meaning held importance. _

"_Promise me, Harry."_

"_I…I promise."_

"_Good," replied Ginny, satisfied. She lowered her hand to the ground, before violent shivering began to wrack her petite frame._

"_It's so cold, Harry. Hold me."_

_Tears leaking from his eyes, Harry did so. With the greatest of care he cradled her body, as if she were made of china._

"_Mmm, this is better," she said, her voice fading as she closed her eyes. "Do you remember the end of our Sixth Year, when we'd spend those spring afternoons just like this, down by the shore."_

"_Those were the best days of our life," Harry choked out. _

"_They…they were. L-l-look…in…my…pocket…"_

_There was no dramatic build-up, no climatic final words. One moment Ginny is telling him to look in her pocket, the next she is still, holding in her final breath. _

_Openly weeping, Harry placed one final, bloody kiss upon her freckled forehead. _

"_I'm so sorry," he said, unable to articulate the depth of his sorrow, his regret. Blood staining his hands, Ginny's final words ringing in his mind, he reached into her robes. Cold metal, a chain of some sort, met his hand. _

_Five years ago, upon Bill Weasley's untimely death at the hands of Fenrir Grayback, a grieving Fleur had given a simple brass pocket watch to Charlie Weasley. The last of the Weasley family heirlooms, it had traveled from son to son, eventually entrusted to sole remaining Weasley._

_Ginny. _

"_I'm going to make it right," he promised, before reaching out. He closed Ginny's glazed eye with his palm, before setting the watch aside. His vision blurry, he conjured a white cloth, draping it over her frail form. _

"_And then none of this will happen."_

_His heart heavy in his chest, he turned away from Ginny's body, casting a Cleansing Charm over his face. With crimson hands he picked up the pocket watch. _

_With a hand that bore the scars of his twenty-seven tumultuous years on this planet, Harry Potter wiped away the blood which had splattered onto the brass pocket-watch with a heavily calloused thumb. It streaked upon the glass, but revealed a few of the Roman numerals placed around the circumference of the watch's face._

_Perhaps a Cleansing Charm would have been more efficient, but this was a moment that Harry knew he needed to remember, one that could not simply be wiped away with a casual wave of a wand._

_If he was going to have any hope of succeeding, he would need to remember what he was fighting for. _

_And why. _

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A mighty cracked echoed through the night air as Harry appeared on a familiar property fringing Ottery St. Catchpole. For a few agonizing seconds he hobbled, putting his weight upon his shattered left foot. Beneath his weight, the pain radiating from his foot multiplied ten-fold, temporarily blotting out the agony from the numerous other wounds.

With a grunt, he fell backwards, his back colliding with an ancient oak tree. Bereft of grace, he slid down the rough bark to a sitting position.

Tall grass grew in front of him, before the ground sloped downward. The smooth, black silk surface of the pond lapped against the bottom of the shallow decline. Upon the dark canvas a luminous moon shone, a perfect replica of the one hanging in the night sky.

Across the water, cloaked by dusk, stood the only place that had ever felt like home to him.

The Burrow.

The fight was over. He had won, but the cost had been incalculably high. What price could you attach to someone's soul?

When the green light had snuffed out his younger self's life, he had forfeited all claim to it. Though his time was short now, evidenced by not only the dwindling seconds on the watch face, but by the curse burning through his chest, he was well aware that if indeed there was some sort of existence after death, his would be of agony, of torture.

Every moral boundary that he had crossed, every innocent person that he had sacrificed in the name of defeating Voldemort…

He would pay for every one.

None more so than the last.

The depth of his betrayal was intractable. Perhaps he could have let Voldemort kill his younger self, and spared him the burden of such a decision, but to let the Dark Lord himself make such a decision…

No, absolutely not.

Better to be damned than to allow Voldemort to succeed in his goal. If his younger self was indeed supposed to die, let it be for the sake of the greater good, than in the name of conquest.

There was more to think about, more to second-guess, none more than his final plan to dispose of Voldemort, but he let them go easily. His thoughts were graying around the edges, fading. The end was near.

All that remained was one final task.

In slow motion, as if walking on the bottom of the sea, he began to raise his right arm up. His muscles fought every step of the way, resisting his brain's commands. A quarter of the way off the ground, his arm stopped, unable to rise any higher.

With the determination that had gotten him through the previous twelve hours, he tried to fight against the exhaustion, but it was too strong. Like a tidal wave, it took him under.

His arm, covered in deep gashes, fell back to the soft earth. The bloodstained fingers, tightly clasped around the handle of his wand, loosed one by one, dropping the wand to the ground.

In his deteriorating state of mind, Harry didn't notice.

"Well, I guess that isn't happening," he slurred, his vision growing dark. He had planned to take himself out with a Killing Curse, ridding the world of Voldemort's last remaining Horcrux.

Though it was possible that he wasn't connected to this Voldemort, it was not a chance he was willing to take.

"Not that it matters anymore."

As his voice faded into the darkness, he heard the slight tick as the minute hand passed the twelve.

One minute remained.

Croaker had never known what would happen when time ran out. The Big Combination had never been tested. For all Harry knew, the future he came from didn't exist anymore, and he would be dropped into inexistence. Or perhaps the universe he had come from had been torn in half by the waves of the paradox he had created.

"I…I j-j-just d-don't know," Harry concluded, his eyelids growing heavy. Cold descended over his body, settling into his bones. It obliterated the pain radiated forth from the self-inflicted wound in his shoulder, forcing it into the background.

In the silence of the night, the watch ticked off its final minute with a click, the sound deafening. It rolled across the water, announcing its arrival with great fanfare.

Midnight had fallen.

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Author Notes:

The end is almost here. Only the epilogue stands in the way of finally being able to label this story as 'Complete'.

If the end seems somewhat fragmented in terms of plot progression, it is. There is missing time between when Harry casts a spell on himself, and when he arrives at The Burrow. The particulars will be cleared up in the epilogue.

I don't know when the epilogue will surface. I'm nailing down the details right now, but may opt to finish the next chapter of 'Ouroboros' before starting the epilogue. After working on this finale chapter for over a month, I'm a bit worn out on this story.

The concept of 'Bloodfire' was first conceived by jbern, in his wonderful story 'Bungle in the Jungle'. So I thank him for allowing me to borrow the concept.

Thanks to Grinning Lizard (who spilled scotch all over his keyboard while beta'ing this), Mira Mirth, Nuhuh, and Swimdraconian for their valuable help with the planning stages of this chapter.

Thanks to Liron Aria and Princess Serine for their valuable beta work on this chapter.

As always, I value feedback very highly, and urge readers to review. Even a simple 'liked it' or 'it sucked' is usually enough to coerce me into coming back to the computer. The huge response to the previous chapter kept me coming back to writing when all I wanted to was rest after yet another long day at work.

DLP Thanks:

T3t, Einstern, samkar, Provis, CheddarTrek, Jarik, Violent Red, Portus, Euro, Sooner90, Basilisk, Vtigo, blazzano, Xantam, mknote, Eidolonic, Inert, Celestin, TheWiseTomato, Garden, Fardeki, animekingmike, klackerz, djbe, bugler, pirazy, azrael, DarkShadowPhoenix


	10. Epilogue: The Watch Falls Still

The Unforgiving Minute

Epilogue: The Watch Falls Still

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**10:54**

Cedric Diggory's eyes flew open as reality flooded back. He let out a gasp at the shadowy figure standing above him, before scuttling backwards.

What the hell was going on? The last thing he remembered was looking out over the strange graveyard the Triwizard Cup had deposited Harry and himself at.

The silhouette followed his movements, stepping into the bright moonlight. His insides turned to ice as the figure was thrown into sharp focus.

Cold green eyes stared impassively at him, framed by blood-matted fringes of black hair. His robes may have been resplendent at one point, but the fine black silk was now torn and shredded, long, deep cuts covering his body. A ragged hole lay between his neck and shoulder, bleeding profusely, displaying the cords of red tendon and muscle.

Was he an Inferi?

"Get up," the man rasped, his voice uncompromising.

Despite being in fear's grip, Cedric struggled to keep his voice level.

"Who…who are you?"

With frightening speed, the man leaned down and backhanded Cedric across the face, sending him crashing back to the ground. The sharp, metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

"I don't have time for twenty fucking questions! Get up, now!"

At the growled order, Cedric jumped back to his feet, withdrawing his wand. The man made no effort to draw his own.

"Where's Harry?" Cedric demanded, sounding far braver than he felt.

With an almost casual flick of his hand, the figure pointed to a still form lying on the ground, fifteen feet away.

"Potter," he whispered, moving closer to the fallen Champion. He lay upon his back, the black Hogwarts robes pooling about him. The crimson and gold Gryffindor crest gleamed in the moonlight. His eyes were frozen, glassy.

"Did you kill him?" Cedric asked with his back turned to the man, his fingers tightening around the handle of his wand.

"No," the man answered, causing Cedric to turn. "He did."

Following the point of the man's finger, his eyes were led to a nightmarish shape upon the ground. Cedric let out a gasp as he saw a malevolent set of crimson eyes set into a chalk-white face, glaring at him. Below a flat, snake-like nose oozing blood, the creature was missing the lower half of it face, displaying a ragged hole leading into his throat.

Worst of all was the rudimentary gasps emitting from its throat, and the weak thrashes of its head.

"Who…wha….."

"Voldemort," the man answered, shifting his gaze to the grotesque figure, before pointing to the hole in his shoulder. "He killed Harry, and his last curse is going to kill me."

Cedric winced at the casual usage of the name, his thoughts growing confused. Voldemort was dead, wasn't he? Harry had killed him as a child.

"Harry Potter never killed Voldemort," the man explained, as if reading Cedric's thoughts. "Though his body was destroyed, his spirit remained, waiting for the time when he could come back. I've tracked him for ten years, trying to prevent it."

"Is…is he immortal?"

The man nodded.

"As of right now, yes. He split away sections of his soul, encasing them within objects called Horcruxes. I've destroyed most of them, but one still remains. Until it is gone, the Dark Lord is immortal."

Cedric had no reply, his mind reeling from the information. The world had thought Voldemort dead, himself included. How was it even possible to split one's soul? The mere thought made his skin crawl.

The man broke his blazing, hate-filled gaze away from Voldemort, withdrawing a brass watch hanging from a thin chain hanging around his neck. His mouth formed into a frown at seeing the time.

"I only have five minutes before this curse kills me."

"You…you could go to St. Mungo's," Cedric offered.

"Voldemort is at his weakest rightnow," he replied, shaking his head. "With my little remaining time, I have to destroy the final Horcrux."

"Oh, well…what about him?" Cedric asked warily, glancing at Voldemort. You-Know-Who's legs and arms, including a gleaming silver hand attached to his left wrist, remained still. Only his snake-like head moved.

"You're going to kill him."

"What?" Cedric exclaimed, sputtering. "I don't-"

"Shut up," the man snapped, radiating cold anger. "You owe me your life, Diggory. If I didn't Stun you, they would have killed you. All they wanted was Harry."

Him, kill You-Know-Who? It was insanity!

"But-"

"Listen! If you don't take care of Voldemort, my sacrifice, Harry's sacrifice, are all in vain. Voldemort may be immobilized right now, but he is crafty, and has many followers."

At his words, Cedric took a long, hard look around the graveyard. Dark robed figures, their faces covered by white masks, littered the grounds, slaughtered like cattle. How many more followers could You-Know-Who have left?

The man followed his gaze, shaking his head a single time.

"There are still more out there, who would answer Voldemort's call. Right now is the best chance we have to prevent the destruction of the Wizarding world, and save thousands of lives. You can afford to set aside your morals for a few minutes, Diggory."

"But…how?"

As repulsive as You-Know-Who was, the idea of killing something was something he just couldn't accept. Him, a murderer? Never.

"I don't give a fuck. Hit him with a killing curse. Strangle him. Burn him alive. Crush him with a rock. It doesn't matter, just as long as you wait five minutes."

"Well, why not just do it now?"

"He escaped once after his body had been destroyed," the man pointed out, his eyes hard. "With one Horcrux remaining, what makes you think this time would be different?"

Queasy at the thought of having to attack You-Know-Who, he nodded his head a single time.

"Good," the man said, before raising his wand. A large stone rose from the ground, floating towards him. He grasped the stone in his left hand, the wand tip pointed at it.

"_Portus."_

Cedric's eyes widened as the stone flashed blue for a moment, before fading away. The casual display of such powerful magic was impressive.

Who was this guy?

His attention focused upon the Portkey, the mysterious wizard began to use his wand like a knife, carving figures into the side of the stone. It flashed again a single time, before the man held it out to him.

"This is a two-way Portkey. The key word is 'Activate'. Once Voldemort is dead, take both Harry and Wormtail's body back to Hogwarts."

"Uh, who's Wormtail? And why is he important?"

The thought of having to handle dead bodies was repulsive, but beneath the cold green stare, any thoughts of rebellion were crushed.

"Just fucking do it," the man snapped, his gaze intensifying. With an angry jab of his finger, he pointed to the nearby body of Death Eater, who lay facedown upon the ground, a silver knife protruding from his back.

Cedric swallowed heavily, before nodding.

"Good," the man replied, before stealing another look at his watch. "I need to be going. Don't fuck this up."

"Why?" Cedric blurted out, freezing the man just as he began to turn. "Who are you? Why go to all this trouble?"

"Voldemort took everything from me. I'm not going to let it happen to anyone else."

Before Cedric could say anything else, the man disappeared with a loud crack.

Alone, the Sixth-Year Hufflepuff took a moment to compose his mind. In the space of what only seemed like a few minutes, he had gone from the cusp of winning the Triwizard Cup, to being tasked with destroying You-Know-Who.

A burden he didn't think himself capable of handling.

He glanced at his watch, to see that it was three minutes to eleven. His attention to longer dominated by the intimidating wizard, he began to look at the surrounding carnage with a more critical eye. The bodies lining the graveyard grounds were far greater in number than he had originally anticipated. He saw figures bereft of heads, of limbs, torn apart, blasted to pieces.

How in Merlin's name had one single wizard done all of this?

Besides himself, the mysterious man and Harry, everyone else here tonight was a Death Eater. To be able to fight so many people at once…it was inconceivable, something you might read in a story. How had someone so powerful managed to stay hidden for so long?

With renewed vigor, the wind began to howl, shaking the trees. The breeze stirred the dark robes, making them flap. As it died down again, dead silence prevailed over the graveyard. In his mind, Cedric imagined the bodies rising as Inferi, coming back to life to avenge their master.

Nervously, he glanced at his watch again, to see that another minute had ticked by.

His heart heavy, he wandered over to where Harry lay, spread eagle. The expression upon the fellow Champion's face unnerved him in a way that was hard to describe. It was not pain he saw on Harry's face, nor fear.

It was betrayal.

The frozen face filled his thoughts, the implications shaking him to the core. Had the mysterious man had been lying about what really happened? If so, why? Surely he couldn't have killed Harry?

Or could he have?

"No," Cedric said aloud, shaking his head. It didn't make sense. The man was clearly dying, a wound either a Death Eater or You-Know-Who would have cast. There was no possible way the man would have wanted both Harry and You-Know-Who dead.

Right?

Throwing another nervous glance to his watch, he saw that five minutes had passed since the man had left. Dread weighing upon him, he walked over to You-Know-Who, trepidation filling each step, the hand grasping his wand shaking.

The Dark Lord began to thrash his head from side-to-side at his approach; all while spouting unintelligible gibberish from the wreckage of his mouth.

Even rendered harmless, being so close to You-Know-Who filled with terror. This evil bastard brought the entire nation to its knees. If the strange was telling the truth, up until a few minutes ago, he had even been immortal.

Cedric wracked his brain, trying to think of a curse to use on You-Know-Who, but his mind was blank.

"It's not like I went to bloody Durmstrang," he hissed.

The tip of his wand quivered as he leveled it at You-Know-Who's throat. Just one cutting curse, and it'd be all over. After the hundreds of deaths this bastard was responsible for, it shouldn't be difficult, or even a question.

The world would be a better place with You-Know-Who gone.

You-Know-Who's crimson, inhuman eyes widened with fear beneath his wand, the thrashing of his head becoming more violent, desperate.

"Come on, Cedric," he urged, trying to force out the spell caught on the edge of his tongue.

The blonde slumped with shame as he lowered his wand.

"I…I just can't do it."

His heart heavy, he trod over to Wormtail's body. He ignored the twisting of his stomach as he knelt down, taking a hold of the Death Eater's robes. The dead weight of the body was like dragging a ton of stone, but Cedric voiced no complaints as he dragged Wormtail across the damp grass, before depositing him next to Harry.

It may have been easier to drag his friend's small body, but the thought of dragging Harry across the ground was abhorrent. The Death Eater, however, deserved no such respect.

Both bodies in position, Cedric reached into his pocket, withdrawing the Portkey. He averting his gaze from the paralyzed form of You-Know-Who, wanting no further reminders of his failure.

Leaving was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, but he just didn't have it in him to kill.

Even if his was a case in which he wished he could.

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

Guilt flooding his conscience, he tightened his fist around the stone, before touching both of the bodies.

"Activate."

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**11:00**

Beneath the bright moon, the world beginning to fade from sight, the brass watch around Harry's throat clicked a final time at it struck midnight, before falling still.

As if a giant hook had speared him, the cold departed as he was pulled at high speeds. The velocity tore his weary, blood-gummed eyes open, indistinct colors and shapes flying around him.

As opposed to the wide void he had traveled through on his way to the past, bio-luminescent walls closed in around him, tapering inwards. He bounced off the walls as he was pulled, each impact sending him tumbling end over end.

His shoulder striking off the top of the tunnel, he bounced off the bottom, before being trapped by the narrowing passage, his body skidding against the edges. The coppery smell of blood and charred flesh struck his nose, heat flaring out around his body.

Dimly, Harry realized he was being sanded away.

Croaker had been right after all. The power source fueling the Big Combination wasn't sufficient to keep the wormhole open for the return trip.

Well, completely open, anyway.

The heat increased, encompassing his body in a halo of burning fire. His vision blacking out, his skin bubbling, a thunderclap echoed throughout the tunnel.

Above the circular dais deep within the heart of the Big Combination, a hole opened in the fabric of space. Harry was spat from its mouth, his body aflame. For a fraction of a second, he saw the crystals nestled within the gears and pipes flare with a white-hot light, the surrounding brass work melting as the liquid coolant evaporated.

At the speed of sound, Harry hit the floor. His flaming body hit the ground and exploded upon contact, spraying boiling blood and bits of burning flesh around the small room. The brass watch shattered, sending pieces of the Weasley family heirloom scattering in every direction.

With a flash like a million suns, the overtaxed charging crystals detonated, reducing Harry's body to ash as the blast tore through the cavern.

Three miles away, it rained fire.

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Piece-by-piece, the bright illumination of King's Cross faded to darkness.

The damp grass, wet with paint, was the first thing Harry felt upon his return to reality, clinging to the back of his robes. He opened his eyes, to see bright starlight shining above.

"Activate! Activate, you stupid bloody thing!"

The words rolled out across the graveyard, fading into the night sky. Fifteen feet away, Cedric Diggory stood. An object was clasped within his hand, which the teenager glared at with contempt. A stone of some sort, it appeared.

His body aching, he moved up to a sitting position. At the shifting of fabric, Cedric swung around, wand held out.

"Harry?" he gasped, fear and wonder in his voice.

"Cedric," he returned blearily, rising to his feet. The details had already begun to fade away, but the image of his mother and father, standing together by the platform's edge, would remain with him for the rest of his life.

"I…I thought you were dead," said Cedric with disbelief. "He said you got hit by a Killing Curse."

"Who?"

"A wizard, he never gave his name," Cedric explained, before launching into the story of what had happened to him upon awakening.

"So he had a giant hole between his shoulder and neck?" Harry asked, seeking confirmation. His future self had been through the wringer, but he didn't remember seeing a wound on his shoulder.

Cedric nodded.

"It was growing bigger by the second. I'm surprised he was even still alive."

The pieces fell into place at once. It wasn't just he that had contained a Horcrux within him. His elder self possessed the same curse.

"Harry, I'm not sure what we're going to do," Cedric said, glancing around. "Not only does the Portkey he left us not work, but there's an invisible barrier around us. We can't get out."

"Of course," Harry said aloud, vitriol in his voice. With both versions of Harry Potter dead, that left only one person who could finish off Voldemort.

Cedric, who had never had to fight for his life, to whom the concept of death was faraway, not one that he had to face on an annual basis.

Who would need to be forced into killing.

"He wanted you to kill Voldemort," Harry explained. "My guess is he didn't think you'd do it, and thought he needed to force you. You said he scratched the runes into the stone after making the Portkey, right?"

"Yeah, he did," the blonde teenager admitted.

"Then that's it. The Portkey won't work until we kill Voldemort."

"This – this is insane, Harry. How are we supposed to kill him?"

"Any way we can," he answered, moving closer to Voldemort.

"Harry, listen to yourself: Are you really prepared to kill him?"

"You bloody bet I am," Harry said sharply, causing Cedric to flinch. "He killed my parents. What should I do? Let the Aurors handle it? Give him another chance to escape?"

"No! I…I just don't think I can do it," Cedric admitted, looking defeated.

For a moment, Harry wanted to curse the sniveling Sixth-Year. What the fuck did he have to worry about? Had Voldemort killed his parents? Had Voldemort tried to kill him multiple times since then?

That was it though, wasn't it?

The Sorting Hat had placed Cedric into Hufflepuff. Diggory had never fought for his life, had never edged the thin line between life and death. The world that Harry had known his entire life was one that was alien to him.

And maybe that had been the thing that his older self had forgotten. Murder had come to him as naturally as breathing, his every waking moment consumed with destroying Voldemort. Had the thought of someone not following through on the chance to kill Voldemort become inconceivable to him?

"We have to," Harry answered finally, gazing at the mute, broken form of Voldemort. "If we don't, there might never be another chance."

"What's gotten into you?"

To Harry, the answer was obvious. An older version of himself had journeyed back to this day, talking of global war, prepared to sacrifice not only himself, but his younger self.

An eye-opening set of circumstances, to say the least.

"If we don't act tonight, would you be able to live with yourself if he escaped? Would you want to talk to the parents of the next person he kills? To tell them, 'sorry, we could have stopped him, but decided not to'?"

Cedric remained silent, dropping his gaze to the ground. He didn't need to say anything. The truth was evident.

Satisfied, Harry turned his gaze back to the Dark Lord, deep in thought. How should they do it?

An idea forming in his mind, he turned to Cedric.

"You researched the Bubble-Head Charm specifically for the Second Task, right?

"Uh, yeah."

"It is possible to cast it on another person."

Cedric pondered the question for a moment, before nodding a single time.

"Okay, what would happened if something broke the field of the Bubble-Head Charm upon casting? Like a reed or a stick or something."

"It would just close around it. There have been cases of wizards hiding underwater for hours at a time, using a reed to bring in fresh air. Why?"

His decision made, Harry dropped down to one of his knees, bringing his wand down. Voldemort's crimson eyes blazed with hatred as the tip wavered in front of his face, but could do nothing to move away.

"Cast it around Voldemort," Harry ordered, holding his own wand steady.

With a shaking hand, Cedric did as ordered. A translucent fishbowl snapped into existence, enclosing Voldemort's snake-like head. The tip of Harry's wand poked through the clear surface.

For a moment, Harry did nothing but stare into Voldemort's crimson orbs. He savored every bit of fear, each unsaid plea.

"This is for my parents, you bastard!"

"_Aguamenti!"_

"Merlin!" Cedric exclaimed as clear water poured from his wand, filling the glass sphere. Voldemort choked and sputtered as the level rose, a red tinge tainting the water. With every bit of strength the Dark Lord struggled to keep his head above water, but despite his efforts, the water rose higher, before filling the sphere.

Bubbles swirled within the glass bowl as Voldemort screamed. In silence he pleaded for mercy, for respite, anything to delay his impending demise.

Harry rose up, crossing his arms over his chest. Piece-by-piece the burning intensity in his eyes faded, the rise and fall of his chest falling to stillness.

It had taken the sacrifice of countless lives, including, almost, his own, but they had finally done it.

Voldemort was dead.

"Harry,,," Cedric said weakly, as if he were doing to be sick. "I…I never could have done that."

"One hour ago, I couldn't have," Harry admitted. "But…things have changed."

An uncomfortable, awkward silence followed his declaration. Could it really be the end? Hundreds of people murdered, his soul split into seven pieces…and it all ends with Voldemort drowning.

Without warning, a bright flash exploded over the graveyard, before fading away.

"Harry! The Portkey heated up for a second! It's probably active."

Harry nodded in response. The possibility of escaping the graveyard was faraway, unimportant. What mattered was that all his doubt regarding Voldemort's demise had fled.

"Cancel the charm."

At his request, Cedric let his wand fall, canceling the bubble surrounding Voldemort's head. Freed from the glass confines, the water spilled onto the ground, soaking into the earth. Stray drops of moisture clung to the chalk-white face, pooling within the eye sockets.

"We…we still need to bring him with us," Harry said, breaking the silence. His gaze was focused upon the still form of Wormtail.

Cedric looked leery at the prospect.

"That…wizard said the same thing. What's so important about the body?"

"It's a long story. If you want, I'll tell you it you sometime."

Cedric nodded in acceptance, content in letting the answer come to him.

And yes, maybe he would really tell the Sixth-Year what really happened over a steaming mug of Butterbeer over at the Three Broomsticks. Not the whole truth, but enough.

Harry knelt down upon the ground, taking hold of Peter Pettigrew's wrist. The flesh was cool to the touch, death sapping the heat away.

"Ready?"

"Definitely," agreed Cedric, withdrawing the stone from his robes. Harry reached out, placing his hand upon it.

There was still a long way to go. The inevitable questions from Ron and Hermione. Not to mention Dumbledore, Fudge, and another other official the Ministry could dredge up. Already the mere thought of trying to explain what happened tonight made his head ache.

Voldemort, Wormtail and Crouch's corpses would go a long way towards closing the book on Sirius Black, though.

But that was all later. Though a new dawn rapidly approached, one that would reshape Britain, it was still night, and he was heading back to Hogwarts.

And for now, that was enough.

"Activate."

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Author Notes:

Well that's it, that's all I have. Hopefully the end wasn't too disappointing.

While there's no final resolution to the plight of the 'younger' Harry, all the plot points the story raised have been closed. I'm not too interested in what happens once Harry and Cedric arrive back at Hogwarts, since from the start this story was about a desperate journey to defeat Voldemort. Lingering too long would have ruined that premise.

Thanks to Grinning Lizard, mira mirth and Swimdraconian for not only their help with the epilogue, but their suggestions and insight through the evolution of the story. You guys are the best.

Thanks to Liron Aria for her fine beta work on this chapter.

Please let me know what you thought of not only the epilogue, but the story as a whole. I highly value feedback, and will respond to every signed review which I receive.

DLP Thanks:

Celestin, Tenages, CheddarTrek, T3t, Socialist, diesIovis, Pirazy, Coelacanth, Nargles, Little Knee, Hw597, Rhydler, capo327, bugler, Tharkun, Datakim, ViolentRed, mknote, Peace, Jarik, MattSilver, Shinysavage, DarkAizen, Shymer, Portus, Rand32085, samkar, Garden, Fardeki,


End file.
